In Time
by Sanqhian
Summary: An anthology of short stories. Moments in the lives of our favorite FBI agent and his squints.
1. Pain

**In Time  
**An anthology

**Note: **These stories are written with prompt words. Therefore _each chapter is its own story. _This is not a continuous story, so to speak. Though a few select elements remain the same throughout.

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**One: Pain**

He felt like cursing a blue streak but knew that it would really serve any purpose. No amount of words could make the pain go away. Words couldn't ease the burning sensation running through his body as his nerves sent a multitude of signals to his brain. Even the slightest movement was enough to send another shockwave racing through his body. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip to keep the unspoken words, the silenced cry deep within. It had nothing to do with showing weakness. It had everything to do with keeping himself concealed. One wrong move, one sigh uttered too loud and he would be a dead man. And it was going to be a cold day in hell before he let anything like that happen. There were a lot of things he still had to do, a lot of life left to live, so to speak. He would keep his mouth shut and endure the pain like a man. But he prayed the entire time that someone would stumble across him, that his back-up would finally arrive. What the hell was taking them so damn long?

For some odd reason he found himself thinking about how he felt every little thing. The coldness of the concrete underneath him. The rough wood pressed up against his back. Even the slightest shift in the wind coming through the many broken windows of the warehouse. He had once heard of another person speak of such sensations, saying that it had something to do with the body dying or some other crazy thing like that. As he came to understand it he was becoming more aware of his surroundings as his brain tried to focus on something other than the pain in his side. Of all the things he could feel there was one he wished would go away.

The pain.

"How does it feel, Agent Booth?" yelled the man he'd been pursuing. Anthony Inaba was wanted for the kidnapping of three little girls. And their subsequent deaths at his hands. For the longest time he had only been a suspect, no evidence being found to link him to the deaths of the first two little girls they found. But then the call came in about a skeleton. "I know that I hit you. You're hoping to wait me out. One problem with that, I'm not bleeding. I can wait until the end of time. But you…you'll eventually bleed to death. Is that your plan, Agent Booth? To bleed to death so that I might get away?"

Let the guy egg him on; let him push all the wrong buttons. There was no chance he was giving away his hiding place behind the massive stack of crates. At least he had the comfort of knowing there were a lot of crates in the warehouse, at least at his end. Anthony had nothing to hide behind. If he could just…but with a slight shift to his side he sent another wave of pain through his body, his hand slipping on the concrete floor. He left a smear of blood. 

"Think about it, Anthony, you're only going to end up in the electric chair for killing me," Booth managed to shout back. The echo off the walls and ceiling carried his voice, making it harder to pinpoint him. He thanked his lucky stars.

"I'm already going to be put to death, Agent Booth."

The skeleton, at first, just looked like another body to join the rest of the unsolved cases that had been stacking up. That was until Temperance had gotten a hold of it. Her and that group of squints. Because of their hard work there was finally evidence to link Anthony to the death of the three girls. Of course, Anthony wasn't going to go down without a fight. How could he have been dumb enough to walk into this guy's trap without having back-up? It was simple really, he though there might be a fourth victim in the making. Just hours ago another little girl had gone missing and she resembled the first three in such a striking manner that his first thought was of Anthony. The pain coursing through his body was starting to fog his mind so he couldn't even really remember how he'd managed to find the warehouse to begin with, but now he was wondering if anyone was going to be able to save him. 

He heard the distinct sound of sneakers on concrete as the murderer began to move around the large space, probably in an attempt to find his wounded prey. That meant he was going to have to move and he wasn't really up for it. The sheer effort alone was enough to make him want to lay there and die. A swift death was all he ever wanted, much like the deaths he doled out when working as a sniper. Quick and painless, the body never knowing what hit it. That was the proper way to go. Not bleeding to death in some warehouse. As he managed to make his way across the floor, slowly and painfully, he thought about the people he cared about. His son. What would his son do without him? And Temperance, he'd never have a chance to tell her how he really felt. Even the rest of the squints, they were his family. How would they deal with his death? As he rested up against another carton he realized the mistake he'd made. Moving from one place to another had been a good idea simply because it but him further into the warehouse.

However he'd left a trail of blood behind him.

Cursing under his breath he tried to think of something else he could do. From his location he didn't know where to find any exits. Even if he did he probably wouldn't have been able to make a run for it. It was getting harder for him to breathe as the minutes crept by. Each breath came out ragged and hoarse, almost like he was breathing with a ton of bricks crushing his chest. The fog that floated around his mind grew denser with each passing minute, the darkness starting to appear around the edges of his consciousness. He fought hard to remain alert but the loss of blood was starting to take a toll on him. He could feel the droplets of sweat that had broken out over his body and the fact that his extremities were starting to go cold didn't escape him. At this rate he _was_ going to die before help reached the warehouse. 

He thought of pulling out his cell phone and once again calling in the need for assistance but alas, in the mad scramble after being shot he'd dropped it somewhere amongst the crates. He had nothing but his pistol and the one remaining bullet. One little bullet that would not be enough to save his life. Sure he'd killed people before with a single bullet but he had not been standing face to face with them. They did not have a gun pointed out him and he had not been fighting to stay alert. All Anthony had to do was walk around the next corner, spy him and pull the trigger. That would be the end of him. Not so quick and very painful. 

"Come on, Agent Booth," yelled the murderer. "Let's stop this game of cat and mouse. By my estimation you only have a little while longer for rescue to be of any help. Why not just let me put you out of your misery, hm? Wouldn't that be a lot nicer then bleeding to death like a wounded animal?"

"Fuck you, Anthony," he snapped. There was no hiding the pain in his voice. His words were followed by a sharp intake of breath as he felt a stab in his chest. He could feel the rapid beating of his heart as it tried to get blood and oxygen to all parts of his body but with the majority of it leaking through the bullet wound in his side…His brain kept screaming at him to do something to stop the bleeding but the more he bled the quieter the scream got, the more he drifted away.

The sound of Anthony's sneakers drew closer. Booth could tell that it was now only a matter of minutes before he died, whether from bleeding out or because the asshole put a bullet in his brain. He gritted his teeth and started to make peace with himself. There was little else that he could do at that point in time. As he watched Anthony materialized from behind a stack of crates, an evil grin spreading across his face, hatred burning deep in his eyes. He held up his revolver, leveling it with Booth's head. Booth fought to lift his weapon but found that he couldn't from a lack of strength. Or was it because that part of his brain wasn't function properly due to the blood loss?

"Good bye, Agent Booth, it was nice knowing you," Anthony said.

Booth fought desperately to take advantage of the other man's delay and finally managed to move his pistol. "I'm not going to die without taking you with me asshole."

Anthony only laughed.

The sound of gunfire in the warehouse was deafening. Booth flinched, his pistol dropping from his hand as Anthony slowly crumpled to the ground, a bullet in his brain. Standing behind him was a man dressed all in black with a helmet, the word SWAT was scrawled across his chest. The high powered rifle in his grasp was responsible for the bullet that killed Anthony. Booth didn't have the strength to pull a trigger. In fact, he was feeling pretty tired. The darkness within was growing larger now with each second. He watched through half-closed eyes as Temperance appeared in front of him with paramedics close at hand. She took his hand, placing the other one on his cheek, his forehead, touching him to affirm that he was still there. 

"Hold on, Booth," she said, her voice almost impossible to hear through the rush of blood moving through his ears. He tried to say something, tried to smile but she wouldn't let him. "Save your strength."

"My eyelids feel so heavy," he barely managed to whisper, his eyes closing.

"Booth, please, open your eyes. Don't do this to me," she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. "Please…"

He smiled ever so slightly. "Pain…there's…no pain."

"Booth…"

"No…pain…"


	2. Sunrise

**Two: Sunrise**

They were locked in the Jeffersonian Institute. He remembered the last time that this particular incident happened and just how bored he had been. He may have respected the squints but having to spend hours on end with them in a confined place full of scientific data and other geekiness? It wasn't exactly his ideal way of killing time. Being locked in with them once was more than enough but like all nightmares he found himself reliving it, locked once again within the Institute. This time it was because of some scare that no matter how many times they explained it to him he was never going to understand. Angela even tried to give him the dumbest version of what was going on but he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that once again he was stuck in the lab…with bones. Lots and lots of bones. Dead bodies didn't bother him all that much but the empty, black, sightless sockets of skulls looking at him always sent a shiver down his spine. It just wasn't natural.

The other thing that sucked about being locked up with them was the lack of anything he could do. There were no games on the computers and their internet access was restricted. That meant that he could check his email and read the news but nothing more. Unless he wanted to research the way bugs arrived at corpses and how long it took a blowfly to go through the stages of its life; fourteen days. It took fourteen days, give or take a day with the interruption of the temperature. Yes, he was bored and had actually listened when Zack started talking about something that sounded remotely interesting. Now he was stuck with that tidbit of information forever implanted in his brain. What was he supposed to do with knowledge like that? Open a blowfly farm?

When his boredom hit an all time low he found his way into Temperance's office and began digging around her desk until he found what it was that he was looking for; a container full of paperclips. Once he had that in hand he wandered over to her couch where he collapsed into the soft cushions. Then he began making a paperclip chain, something he had not done since he was a little kid. What else was he supposed to do, whacht Hodgins boil the flesh off a skull? That would only make him lose what little appetite he had. Piecing paperclip after paperclip together it wasn't long before he had a rather long chain of shiny silver paperclips. But what was he going to do with it now? And why hadn't Bones come back to her office? He figured with all this extra free time she would be working on her next novel. Just yesterday she had been complaining about needing to meet her deadline. He knew how big she was on getting things done on time. He connected the two ends of his paperclip chain and hung it around his neck giving the phrase 'office attire' a whole new meaning.

The Jeffersonian Institute was a big place so there was no telling where his little geeks got off to. They could be in that room with Angela's neat-o machine that produced 3D renderings. He'd been in their earlier only to get yelled out when he tried to make a game of the damned thing, creating little animations of people dancing and other things. Turned out Angela wasn't pleased when her machine was used that way. Then again, they could be in the room with all the little white boxes lining the walls. All those boxes full of bones. Nobody knew it but that room creeped him out. All those skulls just starring at him? He couldn't understand them working there with such comfort and ease. He always felt like there were a million eyes on him and that made his skin crawl. He wasn't about to let Hodgins in on his little secret but he was indeed a little paranoid when it came to that room. Perhaps because his sniper training made him acute to people watching him, studying him, starring at him. That room always brought back unpleasant memories of his time as a sniper. Memories that were better left gathering dust in the farthest reaches of his mind.

Since the lab was so big and there were so many rooms that they could be in he decided to just wander the lab like a lost puppy. Maybe he would stumble across them or find something he could do to pass the time. There was a little breakroom type area on the second floor, nestled amongst a shit load of plants that had been put in to make the place less dreary. There were days when they spent a lot of time up there, though not nearly enough. He liked that part of the Institute because there was no slime, no decomposing bodies or skulls. It was probably the most normal part of the entire lab. So that's where he decided to head. But there was nobody up there. It was, dare he think it, as quiet as a morgue. Letting out a completely frustrated and bored sigh he flopped down on one of the sofas, his eyes boring into the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest. Maybe he should get some shut eye. Perhaps that was his problem. It was dark outside, making the lab even drearier. He should have been home watching some late night movie or actually sleeping. Instead he was locked in this place wearing a paperclip necklace.

The more he thought about sleeping the more it tugged at him, drawing him within its depths until he finally gave in, falling into the comforting embrace of sleep. For some reason he found that he dreamed about giant mice. They weren't Mickey Mouse type of mice either with red shorts and white gloves. No, these were the type of mice with beady eyes and twitching noses. He ended up feeling like he was in one of those twisted Twilight Zone episodes where they take seemingly helpless animals and turn them into mutinous monsters. Needless to say he didn't sleep for long. When he opened his eyes and looked around he was started to see that Bones was sitting in one of the chairs, a cup of coffee in one hand and a book open on her lap. She must have heard him stir because she looked up at him.

"Enjoy your nap?"

He sat up. "I don't like giant mice."

"What?"

"Nothing," he said as he rubbed the lingering sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Time for us to actually leave," Zack said from the top of the stairs. "They lifted our quarantine. We're all free to go home now."

Bones looked at her watch. "Sun will be coming up soon. I think I will just stay here. There's a lot of work that I have to get done."

Booth practically jumped off the couch, his paperclip necklace forgotten. "We can leave? You're not playing some cruel joke on me, are you? We can actually leave?"

"Yes," Zack said, his eyes wide with a touch of fear.

Booth wasted absolutely no time in descending the stairs and streaking for the entrance of the Institute. He loved the squints but could not stand being looked up in that lab for so long. There was nothing to entertain someone like him; no games, no television, no books that he was even remotely interested in cracking the cover of. They saw nothing wrong with extra time in the lab. They were scientists; the lab was home to them. But to someone like him it was a place he only wanted to visit on occasion. Pushing open the door he stepped out into the early morning light, the sun peeking over the horizon. He smiled, every fiber of his being finally relaxing, the boredom easing. For once he just stood there, reveling in watching the sun come up. It really was a beautiful sight.


	3. Wedding

**Three: Wedding**

He fidgeted with the tie he was wearing. He was used to wearing the damned things but only while he was at work. It seemed so weird to be wearing it on a day like today. But try as he might he had not been able to convince anyone to let him wear a bowtie. They kept telling him that ties were the way to go. He tried to tell them that last time he had been to a wedding all the groomsmen wore bowties, not ties. All his words fell on deaf ears. He actually showed up at the church wearing a bowtie, only to pulled aside and told that he needed to change because otherwise things were going to get testy. He didn't want that so he slipped on the boring black tie. Looking at himself in the mirror he felt like he was back at work instead of being on vacation for the next two days. Since when did being on vacation mean wearing a tie and a suit? At least he managed to slip on a pair of his favorite funky socks. Nobody could say anything about them because none of them would know. It made him feel a bit better.

With one last glance in the mirror he headed out the door of the dressing room into the church. From there he slipped outside. The blue sky was dotted here and there with stray clouds but otherwise clear, making for a beautiful day. Birds were singing joyously in the trees around the property, some of them even flitting around. A gentle breeze barely nudged the leaves on the trees into a swaying dance. The temperature was just right, the breeze not enough to give anyone a chill but keeping the mercury from rising much higher. Nobody could have asked for a better day.

He walked across the grass, taking in all the decorations and the swarms of people that were all over the place. He couldn't believe that this was actually happening, that this day had finally come. He spotted Zack standing beside Dr. Goodman and a relatively nervous looking Hodgins. Looking around he didn't spot the girls anywhere and decided that it was probably a good thing. They shouldn't be poking around until the time of the ceremony. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers he walked over to the join the little pow-wow. Zack was talking about some experiment they had been doing in the lab the other day. Booth just about suggested that a wedding was the wrong place to talk about such a thing when he realized that it was actually helping to keep Hodgins from collapsing into a nervous heap. He offered a fleeting smile to Dr. Goodman who returned the gesture. The two of them remained standing there with their friends but neither one spoke. Booth tried to drown out the conversation because he really wanted to enjoy a slice of cake later in the day and if he paid too much attention to Zack he wouldn't be eating until the next day; if he was lucky.

Eventually the music began. People took their seats. Dr. Goodman and Zack were in the first row, the younger scientist finally quiet. Hodgins went to stand at the end of the aisle, a nervous look in his eye. Booth didn't blame him in the least. Last time they had gone through the trouble of a wedding it was interrupted when a man arrived to inform Angela that she was still married. That had been a rather horrible time but she was lucky to locate the guy after a few months. From there it wasn't hard for him to sign the necessary paperwork. This time, if all went well, she was actually free to marry Hodgins. The wedding should be able to go off without a hitch. He looked around for Bones and spotted her standing behind one of the trees as they had practiced. He walked over to her, slipping his arm through hers so that they would be ready for the walk down the aisle. Just like last time it would be just the two of them up there to play the role of Maid of Honor and Best Man.

And just like last time he tried not to let his mind wander. She looked so beautiful. So breathtaking.

He was so in love.

They went through the motions, walking down the aisle arm in arm, the perfect couple. He knew how the people in attendance were looking at them. She probably didn't feel the way he did but that meant little to him at that moment. Someday, he kept telling himself, he would manage to convince her that she really loved him. Then they would be doing this, celebrating that love with people that they cared about it. Though he couldn't guarantee that Hodgins would be his Best Man. Zack was definitely out.

Before he knew it he was watching Angela come down the aisle, her father more than happy to walk with her once again. He had to admit, she looked beautiful on this day, too. But as far as he was concerned Bones was the most ravishing thing there. He could barely take his eyes off her. And it hurt him to see that she was oblivious to the whole thing.

* * *

This time all went as planned and the two were finally married. Booth tried to be happy for the new couple but after an hour of dancing and merry-making a dark cloud began to settle over him. His mind wouldn't stop focusing on the idea of marriage and what it meant to spend the rest of your life with someone you loved. Maybe their relationship wasn't the best thing in the world; what with her being so consumed with her work and him actually living in the real world. But he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone before. And he wanted her to know that. He just couldn't find the words to let her know. He kept running through the scenario in his mind. He would tell her and she either wouldn't understand or she would turn him down using some scientific reasoning on how two people who work together shouldn't get married.

Angela and Hodgins just had.

After another hour passed he couldn't take it anymore. Getting up at of his chair he quickly glanced toward the dance floor were the partiers were busy doing the Hokey-Pokey. He wasn't able to find Bones anywhere. He didn't expect to find her on the dance floor but he figured she would have been sitting on one of the chairs that there were plenty of. She wasn't. He was about to sit and have another glass of champagne when Dr. Goodman, who had been sitting across from him, told him where he might be able to find Bones.

And the good doctor turned out to be right.

She was in the parking lot on the phone, deep in conversation with someone and clearly upset with how things were going. He waited out of hearing distance watching her until she noticed him. She quickly ended the conversation.

"Booth, what are you doing?" she asked.

He walked toward her, a fluttery feeling in his stomach. She always made him feel that way. "I just…I…" For once he couldn't think of anything to say. He felt like a flustered teenager all over again.

"Booth?"

Without saying another word he placed his hands on her cheeks and brought their lips together. At any moment he expected her to pull away. He felt a wave of heat wash over him as he relished in the feel of her warm lips pressed against his. Much to his surprise it was only a second before he felt her slip her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. He dared to lower his hands to her hips, the feel of her body against his lighting a fire within. He deepened the kiss, his heart racing. He dreamed of moments like this but never expected them to actually come true. And never in his wildest dreams had he ever come up with something so wonderful, so passionate. This once kiss transcended time, made him fall even farther.

When they finally broke apart he braced himself for harsh words or to be pushed away. Neither happened. She remained close to him, her arms still around his neck, resting on his shoulders. Then, in a most shocking move, she rested her head on his chest. He felt his heart skip a beat. It was hard to swallow. He wanted to say something, anything, but found that he couldn't talk. Maybe it was for the best. The wrong word could ruin the moment. He didn't want to ruin the moment. He wanted to remain like this forever.

He was finally holding his world in his arms.


	4. Night

**Four: Night**

Zack closed the book he'd been pouring through for the last hour or so. He was actually tired of reading, his eyes straying from the pages more and more as the clock ticked on. He did the same thing nearly every day. After awaking at precisely the same time every morning he would go through his set routine and be on his way to the Jeffersonian Institute in less than an hour. There he would spend the biggest portion of his day dealing with skeletons and unknown substances. He would identify markings in bones that could have been the source of death. He would help Dr. Brennan with her job, thankful that she'd given him a place in the lab, given him a chance to prove just how worthy he was. And he was even more driven to be of help now that he'd been hired as part of the team and was no longer just some intern or whatever they had called him back in the beginning. When work ended he returned home where he watched the news, had dinner and then spent a few hours reading. Sometimes he read leisure books but for the most part he chose books that fit with the work he did. He was always looking to learn more and more about his job. He hoped to someday be as good as Dr. Brennan herself. That was his goal.

But tonight he quickly grew bored of his routine, setting the book on anthropology aside.

There had to be something else that he could do.

He entertained the thought of turning on the television but would there be anything on worth watching? He quickly put an end to the thought. He didn't want to spend his evening sitting in front of the television watching mindless shows when he could be doing something more constructive with his time. But what should he do for the next hour or two before going to bed for a full night of rest?

Looking to his left he let his eyes try to focus on something outside the window of his place. All he saw were shadows darker than night itself. He got up, leaving the book on the coffee table, and headed toward the front door. When he pulled it open he was met with the wall of black that awaited him outside. Maybe he would go for a nice stroll under the stars, give himself time to think about things that he never really spent much time thinking of. Like how long it would take before Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth went on their first date. Or how long before Angela and Hodgins had a family. These weren't things he normally let his mind dwell on but even his brain needed a little down time now and then. Closing the door behind him he officially stepped into the night.

Above him there were millions and billions of sparkling stars gazing down upon him. He quickly found the various constellations represented by the little balls of burning gas. Then he looked to the full moon. If he remembered correctly it was the second moon of the month. That made it a blue moon. He remembered explaining to Booth one day that the phrase 'blue moon' had nothing to do with the color of the moon but was more of a folklore issue. And there were two terms for blue moon. One referred to the fourth full moon in a season while the other referred to a second full moon in a month. By the time he was done explaining that he was sure that Booth was no longer listening, just looking at him with vacant eyes while his mind focused on something else. Like what Dr. Brennan was wearing.

He stepped away from his home, his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he headed in no particular direction. He lived in a small house on his friend's property. He knew the place by the back of his hand, though he couldn't really tell what that expression meant. What did knowing something have to do with the back of his hand? He wove his way through the trees, silent and tall sentinels that loomed in the darkness. Though most of the world was getting ready for slumber he knew that a whole 'nother part of the planet was waking up now that the sun had gone down. He could hear the melody of the crickets as they began to sing their nightly tunes. He heard the flapping of wings above his head as the bats came out of the caves, the darkness of night freeing them. Somewhere he even heard the croak of a frog, or was it a toad? Sometimes he never could tell the difference between the two. But that's okay because he didn't study them, he studied humans.

Walking amongst the trees on the property he thought about how peaceful it was underneath the stars, a blanket of black ink wrapped around him. He always thought it was easiest to let his mind be free by working. Work, solving the puzzle, those were things that typically relaxed him. But now he found himself strolling under the stars and he felt…completely. All the tension from the day finally easing from his body. Until now he had not been aware of the effect today's work had had on him; what with having to deal with three burned bodies that ended up being children. That was enough to make anyone sick. He walked a little more before finally deciding to stop in a clearing. He sat in the grass without being afraid of a spider climbing on him or a cricket wandering across his path. He didn't care about the raccoon eating berries from a bush just yards away while an owl watched him from a branch in a nearby tree. He paid no attention to the skunk that ambled through the darkness a foot away or the opossum peeking at him from under a bush. This was their world and he was an intruder but tonight they were willing to share with him the splendors of the night.

He lay back on the grass, his hands under his head as he eyes studied the sky. Once again he found all the constellations but this time he mentally recalled all the details of each constellation; their name, the names of the stars that made them, their origin, the origin of their names. He wondered if normal people were able to do the same thing. Did they ever look toward the sky and just gaze upon the stars and let their minds go? As he watched the sky he saw a streak of light, a star shooting across the expanse of sky. He smiled, knowing that very few people if ever saw a shooting star. Acting like a complete child he was quick to make a wish. Then he was thinking about the next meteor shower and wondering if maybe he should slip it into his schedule. It had been so long since his last meteor shower. So long…he used to love them when he was child. He wondered what kind of memories they would bring back to him.

He sighed, finally happy, finally relaxed and free of his work. As much as he loved his job it never hurt to let it go once in a while, to free himself from the rigors of day to day life. He closed his eyes, enjoying the chorus of night time creatures, their music something wholly new to him. They swept him away and into their world were he relaxed even further. And before he realized it he was sound asleep on the grass under the blanket of stars, the creatures of the night keeping a watchful eye on him.


	5. Music

**Five: Music**

Angela closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the music flowing from the speakers wash over and through her body. It had been a particularly rough day and all she wanted to do was unwind. What better way than by listening to soothing melody? She knew that if the others walked in on her at that particular moment they might find the music to be odd but what more could they expect from her? She had picked up this little CD on one of her many trips. She liked the sound of the pipes, the subtle guitar, the chimes. With her eyes closed she felt whisked away from the office to an island surround by a raging sea and an amazingly clear blue sky. She enjoyed the sight of rolling green hills instead of bumper to bumper traffic. Every time the wind blew she could smell the ocean; the salt, the seaweed, the water. It would always be better than the acrid aroma of car exhaust. The place in her mind reminded her of the hills of Scotland or maybe even Ireland, somewhere without a lot of people. She liked to feel isolated and alone, adrift on the river of notes that made up the song.

But all too soon she came crashing back down to earth and reality as the computer before her chimed to let her know that it was done. She looked at the screen in an attempt to make heads or tails of what she was seeing. This wasn't exactly her department. She had been hired by the Jeffersonian to put faces on the unknown so that they might be identified by the people that once held them so dear. Of course, she had gone outside of her job description more than once, mainly by creating the computer program that allowed her to show a crime scene in a 3-D hologram. The program became so important to the Jeffersonian. It helped her to cope with the things that she saw every day. Sitting in front of the computer and creating the sequences required for the program to work was a great way for her to forget about the skulls boiling in the next room or the decaying body lying on the exam table. But today they had been so short handed. Booth had run off with Brennan hours ago and they eventually called for Zack. She wondered what they were doing that they would be gone from noon until after dark? She hoped they hadn't stumbled across a mass grave or something. Her stomach wouldn't be able to handle it. Never mind the fact that she would have nightmares for weeks having to put faces on all the bodies.

She wasn't the only one in the Jeffersonian. She knew that the boss, Dr. Goodman, was busy with paperwork in his office. And no doubt he was keeping tabs on whatever it was Brennan was dealing with; he hated to be left out of the loop. Aside from them and a few people she didn't know because they didn't work the for anthropology department, Hodgins was around. In fact, she was sitting in front of the computer he'd directed her to a little over an hour ago. He wanted her to wait here for a test to finish running so that she could alert him to it. But sitting in front of the computer had gotten boring and that's where the music came from. After about a half hour of nothing she had dashed to her office and grabbed her iPod. Instead of placing the earbuds in her ears she let them rest on the desk, turning the volume all the way up. She hated having people sneak up on her so at least this way she would have a warning of their approach.

The test was completely. She looked around but was unable to see her husband from where she sat. Letting out a somewhat depressing sigh she pushed away from the computer. Before she could get far though the man that had captured her heart walked back into sight. He took one look in her direction, saw that she was standing and headed over. He smiled as he came upon her. "I take it the test is done running?"

"Yes," she told him. "What the hell were you doing anyway?"

"Testing to see if our database could find a song from a few simple lyrics," he explained to her. "Booth sent them to me over the phone, said he needed to know what the song was. Of course, he wouldn't say what for but I figured I would give it a go."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "The computer can actually identify a song from a few notes?"

"They can do a lot of things," he said, sitting in the chair she had occupied a few minutes ago. She'd forgotten about the music streaming out of her iPod and was too late in grabbing the little device. Hodgins looked at it, held it captive, listening to the notes flowing out of it. Then his brow wrinkled. "What is this?"

"Nothing," she said, grabbing it from him and shutting the music off. "I got it on a trip and I find the music to be soothing."

He looked at her, a twinkle in his eye. "That's what I love about you. You are full of surprises."

"Can we just get on with the test? I would like to leave the lab at some point tonight."

"All right," he turned toward the monitor, "let us see what we got." He hit a few keys, clicked with the mouse, and a moment later the sounds of a symphony came pouring out of the computer's speakers. The two of them stood there listening to it without speaking. Music was meant to tell a story but each person drew from the song what meant the most to them. Angela felt sorrow. Hodgins sensed chaos or mischief. "Bingo. It's a symphony by Ludwig Von Beethoven."

"What the hell does that have to do with Booth and Brennan?"

He shrugged. "Not a clue but I can tell you this, Booth will have no clue what the symphony is. I'll be surprised if he even knows who Beethoven is."

"I'd be more surprised if _Brennan_ knew who Beethoven was," she told him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Hodgins could only chuckle.


	6. Anniversaries

**Six: Anniv****ersaries**

Another day on the calendar, that's all it would seem to some people. But not him. Today was very important, more important then they realized. He ran a hand through his hair as he thought about the date. Nobody suspected him of anything, and why should they? It was just another day, an ordinary day. He closed his eyes momentarily, exhaling slowly. Then, like he expected someone to be creeping up on him he suddenly looked over his shoulder. There was nobody there. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. They were all so busy, so consumed by their work, walking through the halls of a different world. It was the perfect opportunity for him to disappear. If they came looking for him he wouldn't be sitting in front of the computer watching the screen as the test was run. He was tired of seeing the same damn thing over and over again; substance is unidentifiable. He knew that was a crock, everything could be identified one way or another. Pushing back his chair he gave the perimeter another sweep, he was still alone, out of sight. He made sure that when he walked away from the computer that he looked like nothing was amiss. As far as anyone knew he was on his way to the bathroom, giving his eyes a break or merely stretching his legs. That's what it looked like after all. He shoved his hands into his pockets for extra affect, thought about whistling and figured that it would be too much.

When he got to the door that was his intended target he looked around once again. Nobody was watching him. He could see Booth having a word with Zack, a look of utter confusion on the agent's face. If Booth was here that meant Brennan was around somewhere. Since he couldn't see her he figured that she was busily working in her office. Earlier that morning she had muttered something about a deadline and needing to finish her latest book. That should keep her occupied for a few minutes more, especially with Booth being held up by Zack's overly scientific explanation of something. He loved the kid like a brother but sometimes he wondered if Zack wasn't becoming too much like Brennan. The two of them seemed to completely lack a social life. Though at least his boss had Booth. If only she could see the love in the agent's eyes…

Realizing that he was lingering, making it easier for someone to catch him, he pushed the door open wide enough to slip through and then closed it behind him. The sound of the door wasn't enough to bother Angela. She was standing before a computer, her arms crossed over her chest. He couldn't tell exactly what she was doing but it didn't matter to him. It was just them, nobody else. He walked up behind her, knowing full well that he should have said something, made some sort of sound to let her know that he was there, but he didn't. Where would the fun be in that? She squealed the slightest bit when he wrapped his arms around her wrist. Then she was relaxing back into him, into his embrace. They liked to steal these little moments at work when they could. But today was extra special. Without saying anything he reached into his pocket and withdrew a little piece of paper. It was barely more than a scrap but it would become something special, he knew that for a fact. He handed it over to her.

She quietly read it before turning in his embrace to face him, a smile on her lips, the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes. "Did you write this?" she inquired about the small poem.

"Yes."

She kissed him. "It's lovely."

"Happy one month anniversary," he whispered in her ear. Married for one month, he could hardly believe it. Every day that went by he fell more and more in love with her. He could only imagine how swept away he would be when that second month passed by.

--

He finally managed to get away from Zack and his explanation of…he couldn't even remember what the young scientist had been talking about. It never ceased to amaze him how one simple word, an innocent statement, could send the younger man on a road that he would never understand. All those big words and weird things, it would forever remain foreign to him. But that was quite all right. He didn't need to understand the ins and outs of decomposition or how a weapon affected the tissue and bone; that's what he had squints for. They did all that scientific-geek stuff while he made sure to handle the real-life aspect; the people, the families that were left behind. He found that he really liked it that way; it was the perfect work relationship. They did their part, he did his and the bad people went to jail. What more could he ask for? And as if that wasn't perfect enough he also had the best partner in the world. What did it matter if she didn't understand him when he cracked a joke or made a pop culture reference? It was part of her charm. Hell, she was always saying things that he didn't understand. If only she could realize how much alike they were, maybe then he would finally be able to ask her out for an honest date. Though technically he didn't much care for the way she looked at love. Did she even believe in love beyond that which she felt for family? He tried not to think about it too hard.

When he came to her office door he knocked, then entered without waiting for her to say whether or not he could. She wouldn't have a problem with him being there. There hadn't been a case so he knew that nothing spectacular was going on at the Jeffersonian. That meant one thing; Bones would be in her office working at her next best seller. One minute she was working with human remains and the next she was writing stories about human remains. No wonder she didn't have a social life outside of him and the remaining squints.

"I'm busy, Booth," she said busily typing away at her computer, giving him only the fleetest of glances.

"Can't you take a short break? Like for lunch?" he asked, walking further into her spacious office. "Lunch is very important; food is fuel for the brain."

"I have a snack in my desk drawer."

He leaned on her desk. "Come on, it's a special day. Let's go out to lunch. I'll pay."

She finally stopped typing and looked at him. "Why is it a special day? Last time I checked it was just another day on the calendar. Or do you have a case? Is that what it is, you have a case that you want to discuss?"

"No, Bones," he sighed. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered. "Think back…there's something about today that's special."

"Booth, I don't have time for games. I have a deadline to meet."

"It's our anniversary, Bones."

That made her frown. "What are you talking about?"

"Today marks the day we started working together all those years ago," he said. "So technically that makes it our anniversary."

"Married people celebrate anniversaries, Booth."

"Come on, Bones," he said hiding his frustration well. "Is going out to lunch with me that bad? It's not like your novel is going to get up and walk away."

She sighed. "You aren't going to leave me alone until I agree to do this with you, are you?"

He only smiled.

"All right, we can have lunch together." She clicked the mouse a few times, most likely saving her story, before pushing her chair back away from the desk. She grabbed her purse, threw her phone into it and headed for the office door. He was right behind her. When she pulled the door open he took her by the wrist, stopping her.

"Happy anniversary, Bones," he said.

"Happy anniversary, Booth."


	7. Children

**Seven: Children**

"I hate cases involving children," Booth remarked off handedly.

Zack looked down at the small skeleton resting atop the metal examine table. He judged that the remains belonged to a girl under the age of ten. But for once he decided not to share the information with Booth. Something about that last statement helped keep his mouth shut. This wasn't an active case they were looking at. The bones had been in the Jeffersonian for so long. The little girl had no name and they knew from the age of her bones that her parents were long since departed. Zack knew that the body had been found before he joined the team, rumor had it that the poor kid had been hanging around long before even Dr. Brennan arrived at the lab. He could still see the marks from all the testing that had been done upon the bones. It seemed that every year or so the body was brought out of storage and the same tests run again, the technology always getting better. They wanted to identify the little girl so that there could be a proper burial. Zack wasn't entirely sure that it would ever happen. There were so many children in the missing persons' database, even from years ago. And they didn't have any clues to start with. Nothing. No possible hair color, no tell-tale childhood scars, no eye color. But that was going to change. He was going to make it change. This year, as a gift to Brennan, he was going to see that the little girl finally got a name. Dr. Brennan had done so much for him; mentoring him, getting him the job at the Jeffersonian. He owed her something.

"I wasn't briefed about this case…" Booth said, breaking through his thoughts.

Zack may not have been the brightest when it came to certain aspects of human behavior but even he knew that Booth was fishing for information. "It's not an active case, that's why. It's more a cold case."

"Oh." The agent looked at the little skeleton again. "Um…I think I'll go see what Bones is doing."

"She's in her office," Zack remarked casually as he picked up the child-sized skull. He popped the jaw open to examine the teeth; all perfect, not even the slightest hint of a cavity. He figured that someone had loved this little girl enough to make sure she had good dental care. That had to mean something, right? When he placed the skull back upon the table he realized that Booth, despite his unease, was still standing there, arms crossed over his chest, an unexplainable look in his eye. "I thought you were looking for Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth." For some reason he couldn't find it within himself to use their first names. It wasn't professional.

"How can you stand there and…doesn't it bother you that you're working with a child's body?"

Zack looked at the remains. "I try not to think about it as a child and more as a puzzle that needs to be solved."

"But…"

"Please, Agent Booth, I have work to do."

Ignoring the unsettled agent he began to look closely at the remaining bones. Aside from the marks made by tests for DNA and other things he could find nothing wrong with the bones. That meant that she had been a careful child, never breaking a bone. He figured that had to mean something. If she had been killed by an abusive parent her remains wouldn't have been so nice. There would be breaks, even just the slightest of hairline fractures. But there wasn't even that. There was nothing. It bugged him to think that such a loved child ended up dead and somewhere out there a family needed answers. How could he get those answers, though? Placing the femur back on the table he let out a frustrated sigh. At least Agent Booth had finally gone on his way. He hated having the agent looming over him like he was some sort of specimen in a jar. For some reason it made him feel self-conscious. The only other person that could do that to him was Dr. Brennan.

"What are you doing?" Hodgins asked as he came across his friend. "Hey, that's that little Jane Doe," he answered his own question.

"Yes," Zack felt the need to clarify.

"You know, last time we took her out was your first year here," Hodgins started. "Technology sure has changed a lot, hasn't it? I bet this time around we can get a match."

Zack looked at him levelly. "I wouldn't bet on it. There's nothing to go on."

Hodgins smiled, a glimmer in his eye. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that. You see, the love of my life has this nifty little computer gizmo…"

"Why didn't I thin of that?" exclaimed Zack, the hope coming back to him. "Does she need just the skull or…?"

--

Brennan was hanging up the phone when Booth walked into her office, knocking on the doorjamb to announce his presence. "Is there a case?" she asked him, skipping over all the pleasantries. He shouldn't have expected anything less from her.

"Actually…"

"What? You don't look so well."

"Zack is playing with a child's skeleton like it's a goddamned ball," he remarked, knowing that what Zack was doing was actually part of his job. Still, shouldn't the scientist have been bothered about the body, the size of the body?

Brennan didn't say anything as she pushed back her chair and headed out into the lab proper. He wondered what was going through her head as he tried to read the expression on her face. Was she just as bothered as he was to hear the news or was it more of a scientific curiosity? He was beginning to think that he was hanging with the wrong bunch of people. They should be affected by that tiny skeleton with all its mini parts. Maybe they found comfort in the fact that the poor kid had been gone for years. He couldn't find that same comfort. All he could think about was his own son. And that's when he realized why it was harder for him than it was for them. He was the only one who actually had a child. None of them truly understood what it meant to love a child, to love them the way a parent did.

He followed her to what he knew was Angela's part of the lab. He tried to chase away the image of that child-sized skeleton without its skull. At this rate he was going to be having nightmares of headless children.

"What are you guys doing?" Brennan asked. She wasn't technically the head of the Jeffersonian but they all treated her like their boss…because that's what she was. Booth never could figure out what role Dr. Goodman had in anything. They liked him but never treated him with the respect warranted Brennan.

Three guilty faces turned to look at her. Zack decided that he should be the one to talk. He was, after all, the one who took the body out of storage. "I just thought…what with the years of new technology…" Only he couldn't say what he wanted to.

"We finally have a face for our Jane Doe," Angela said, pointing to her 3D image. A little girl of blond-hair and blue eyes stared back at them. She looked to be about somewhere between six and eight years old. She looked loved, happy, innocent.

"I've already got the computer sorting through the database," Hodgins said. "We might finally be able to identify her." The computer picked that moment to ding, the search done. Hodgins checked the monitor. "Let's see, it pulled up ten names. Three of them suffered broken bones so they're out. Two had at least one cavity, no go for them. Another one had a deformed foot. The last four could possibly be our little girl."

"Four?" Booth echoed.

"Looks like we have some interviewing to do," Brennan said.

"Have I ever told you that I hate cases with kids?" Booth remarked, following her out the door.


	8. Need

**Eight: Need**

_Do you have everything you need?_ The words echoed through the hollows of his mind once again. It was driving him nuts, those six words, constantly floating around and popping out at random times. He could not remember for the life of him where he last heard that phrase. Had someone asked him that very question? Was it something he heard while flipping through channels last night in an attempt to forget about the latest case? Did he read it somewhere? Or just hear it in passing conversation? It didn't matter where the hell he heard it, he just wanted to go away. The first time it had appeared he'd been busy rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. Then it came back shortly after breakfast. Now he was outside in the sun leaning back against the black Government Issue car and it popped out again.

_Do you have everything you need?_ Everything he needed? What sort of question was that anyway? It sounded to him like something someone would say to a person they loved. Somebody getting packed for a trip or something along that line. Maybe a nurse asking a doctor if he had all the necessary implements before starting a surgery. It didn't sound like the kind of question that anybody would pose to him. And even if they did, he had everything he needed.

Didn't he?

Of course. He had a great paying job. Not only was it a good job but it let him find some sort of retribution to make up for all the people he killed. Though every once in a while he had to kill someone because they just refused to listen to him when he told them to freeze. Why couldn't people just freeze when he told them to? Didn't they ever see the gun that he was pointing in their direction? Aside from his job he also had his son. He loved spending time with him, being a farther. It gave him a new experience in life. Every day that he spent with Parker he learned something new. Children were a wonderful thing. And on top of it all he had his friends, even if they were a little on the geeky side. He counted on the squints for a lot now a day. However, he still would not admit to anybody that he trusted them with his life. Maybe even more so than his fellow agents. He finally answered the question. He had everything he needed.

So why did the question keep coming back? What was he missing?

The answer came walking out the door and headed down the steps. He watched her. She was only half paying attention as her sunglass-concealed eyes focused on a file in her hands. She was always all about work. But could he really blame her for that? There were so many days he never made it home, so many nights spent asleep on the couch in his office at headquarters. He watched as she stepped out of the shadows of the Jeffersonian, the sun making her hair shine like she was in one of those shampoo commercials. The sound of laughter drew his attention. A couple on the sidewalk was enjoying each others company. They seemed lost in their own world, oblivious to those swarming around them. Then he turned his attention back to Bones.

_Do you have everything you need?_

Just a few minutes ago he had thought he had everything he needed. Friends, family, a job, a purpose. Now he realized that something was missing. There was no love in his life. Sure there was the love between him and Parker, but that was family love. As Bones drew closer he felt the familiar ache in his heart. It showed up every time he laid eyes on her. Why couldn't he tell her how he really felt? Hadn't he been trying for so long now? Even if he had been, getting across to her that he was in love proved to be a harder task than he expected. So many things were lost on her. He decided that it had something to do with the unpleasant childhood dealt her. She lost herself in science. She lost everything in science. But maybe he could teach her to love one of these days.

"Hey Booth," she said as she came to a stop in front of him. "Are you ready? They faxed over the photos to me and I think this one is going to be really interesting."

"Makes you wonder how they missed it," he remarked somewhat dryly. He was attempting to focus on the here and now and not the thoughts running rampant in his head. "How does a school move lockers into the basement without noticing that someone is locked inside?"

She shrugged. "Maybe the person wasn't yet dead, just unconscious from lack of oxygen."

"Bones…" He let it drop as he walked around the car and pulled open the driver's door.

She slid into the passenger seat, checking her watch. "Do you think we can wrap this up in time for dinner? I'd like to sneak in something before I get stuck in the lab for the rest of the night trying to solve this one."

_Do you have everything you need?_

He started the car, a smile forming on his lips. "Dinner…don't mind if I join you, do you?"

"Do you think that you will be able to eat after this?" she asked quite simply. "You haven't seen the pictures of this body; which I'm going to judge as a male Caucasian. I give a rough estimate of having been there for a good ten years or so, give or take. They said the lockers were in the basement. That's a cool enough place to slow down all the usuals of decomp."

"So he shouldn't be that bad," he stated while making a right hand turn.

"His skin looks like it's melting off."

"Bones…"

"What?" she asked quite innocently. "It's not my fault. I didn't put the guy in the locker and leave him in the basement for years. I think I might want ribs or something for dinner."

"Bones…" An unpleasant image popped into his brain. It was quickly knocked away by that crazy thought; _do you have everything you need?_ "You know what, ribs don't sound half bad. I know of this great place…"


	9. Dream

**Nine: Dream**

It was just another day, one of those typical days when he found himself driving through the crazy streets of Washington DC so that he could reach the Jeffersonian. He had to speak with Bones about something today. They'd been working a case for the last week and she hadn't yet called him about her report on the body. This was rather unusual since she was all about working on skeletons and getting cases solved. Half way to the lab he started wondering if maybe she were ill or perhaps it was a simple case of nothing to report. That did happen on occasion, though she still managed to keep him in the loop. No, the more he thought of it the more he realized that something wasn't right. She should have called him. She should have told him what was going on. He was the primary on this case and his boss was starting to breathe down his neck. Then a new idea popped into his head as he hit the brakes to stop at a red light. He vaguely recalled her muttering something about a deadline for her novel not too long ago after getting a call. Could she have forgotten about the half-decomposed body to work on her latest best seller? He didn't think it entirely probable but then again, this was Bones. She was full of surprises.

When the light turned green he was filled once again with the all too familiar feeling that something was wrong. Unfortunately he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that seemed out of place. Other than the fact that she had not called him. By the time he pulled up into a reserved spot outside the Jeffersonian the worry had vanished, replaced with an overwhelming surge of anger. How could she be so careless, so forgetful? There was a family out there somewhere waiting for them to identify their loved one and pass along the much dreaded news. If he went into the lab and found that she was busily working on her novel he was going to be cross and rightfully angry. As he marched up the steps he began to formulate an argument in his mind. There were a lot of nasty things that he could say but he knew that most of the words would never get past his lips. This was Bones, after all, the woman that held the key to his heart. Pulling open the door he let out a frustrated sigh. He wanted more than ever to have the strength to yell at her and let her know how she had screwed up, especially since she so very rarely screwed up; but he just couldn't muster that strength. He kept coming back to the simple conclusion that it was Bones. He could never really be mad at her.

Walking toward the lab he continued to war over how to handle the situation. Tell her the truth? Mention the fact that he was so disappointed in her or just let the matter slide and play off that he had been too busy to notice? She would never fall for that. She wasn't able to lie herself but could usually catch him in a fib. That was one of those things that baffled him when it came to her. She could be so…unpredictable while remaining predictable all the while. He knew that she would never get any of his pop culture references but he just never knew what would pop out of her mouth.

He came to the lab and pulled the card out of his pocket. A quick swipe through and he was granted access to the restricted area. He remembered how hard he had to fight for them to give him his own card. Setting off the alarm one too many times made it possible. Now he had all the access he needed, almost like he'd become a permanent member of team; only he wasn't a squint. There was no way in hell he would ever give up his job to work in a lab with these people all the time. He loved them like his family but…bones and decomposing bodies? That wasn't exactly his field of expertise. He worked the people, they worked the science. He hoped that it stayed that way for a long time.

Hodgins was busily doing something scientific looking. Booth wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know exactly what the scientist was doing. The thing about Hodgins…he liked fluids and bugs and grime. Imprinted in Booth's mind forever was a case from a few years back. He recalled how excited Hodgins had been to dig around in the foulest smelling liquid they had ever come across. The excitement, the light in the scientist's eyes at the prospect of digging through the…goo sent a shiver down his spine even years later. It just was not normal. He made sure to stop a few feet away from Hodgins in case whatever he was working with smelled awful. Then he found himself wondering how Angela could have possibly married the geek. They were almost polar opposites.

"Have you seen Bones?" he asked. He had come to the Jeffersonian for a reason, not to contemplate the lives of the squints.

"Oh, hey Booth," Hodgins said when he looked over his shoulder. "She should be in her office. That's the direction I last saw her headed in."

"Thanks," he remarked, surprised that the anger didn't show in his voice. Why was she in her office when there was work to be done? He could feel his blood boiling. How could she be so careless? It wasn't like her at all. On the walk to her office he kept clenching and unclenching his hands, an attempt to remain calm. She at least deserved a shot to explain herself to him. He had to keep telling himself that over and over. She deserved that much from him. And if he didn't think her excuse was good enough then he could get out right angry with her. Rapping lightly with his knuckles, he refused to wait until she asked him in. Let her see that he was upset with her. Maybe that would help his dismay get across to her 'cause he had to face it, sometimes Bones could be a tad dense when it came to people. She was all about the science.

Expecting to see her sitting at her desk he was surprised to find her standing before a bookcase, a volume in her hand. At his entrance she slipped the thin brown book back amongst the others. "Hello."

"Don't you hello me," he started, the slights touch of anger in his voice.

She turned to him, a look of confusion on her face. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? How can you ask me that?" he remarked. "Bones, have you been working the case or not?"

The look she gave him only confirmed his suspicions. "I'm sorry," she said. "I started but there were other…obligations that I had to deal with. Zack and Hodgins have been handling the case. I really am sorry, Booth."

"Sorry?" Maybe he was letting his anger get the best of him. "Sorry doesn't even begin to make-up for this, Temperance." When had he last used her name? "I counted on you for this and…" He resisted the urge to throw up his hands in dismay.

"Booth, I can make it up to," said Bones as she walked across her office to stand in front of him. "I can…I don't know," she shrugged. "Please, you have to understand that I am just totally swamped right now."

"That's not really a good excuse."

"I'm aware of that."

"I just can't believe…you, of all people, were the last one I ever expected to slack off."

"Slack off? That's what you think I've been doing?" Her eyes got wide with surprise. "I don't think I even know how to slack off…aren't you always telling me to get a social life?"

That did sound like something he would say. "That's besides the point…"

Without warning she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. To say that he was stunned would have been an understatement. The last thing he expected to receive in the middle of a fight was a kiss, especially from Bones. How many months, years even, had he been fantasizing about just such a moment? Okay, so maybe it wasn't _the_ moment he dreamed about but at least they were kissing and that had to me something. Unless it was a pity kiss. Did he really care if it was a pity kiss, or even a shut-up kiss? She was kissing him and instead of enjoying it he was analyzing it. That didn't seem right. He should have felt like he was on fire or at least have been enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his, after all, this was something he so desperately wanted.

So why wasn't he enjoying it?

"Agent Booth!" someone yelled in a deeply male voice, making him jump. His eyes flew open to find his boss standing in the doorway of his office. He was in his office, not at the Jeffersonian. He was seated as his desk in his office in the FBI building, a short drive from the lab. He'd never been there. "Stop sleeping on the job," his boss said as he tossed a file on Booth's desk. "You have a case." His boss turned and left him sitting there, stunned and dismayed. Of course he'd been dreaming. It was always a dream. She would never kiss him. But that didn't mean he wouldn't keep trying…


	10. Snow

**Ten: Snow**

Booth looked out the glass pane door wondering how the hell he was supposed to get back to the office so that he could gather his stuff to head home. Usually he had no problem leaving the squints behind but things had taken a turn for the worse. He had headed for the lab under a very gray sky and by the time he pulled up outside the Jeffersonian the big, fat snowflakes had started falling. Now, he liked the snow but he preferred it in moderation. And never anything more than a foot. After all, who wanted to go traipsing through all that snow? It would find ways into his shoes and leave him with wet, cold socks. He hated when his socks got wet. He took great pride in his socks. The news report that morning said that a snow shower or two was possible with less than an inch of accumulation. That sounded pleasant to him. A little snow to cover up the dead, brown grass; maybe make it feel more like winter around the city. At least than all the Christmas lights wouldn't seem so out of place like they had been since winter rolled around. As far as he could remember this was the first time the snow was actually forecasted to stick. And it was only supposed to be less than an inch.

Apparently someone didn't know how to do their job.

He had gone to the lab to have a word with Bones. Only, on his way into the lab he got stopped by Dr. Goodman and the two of them ended up deep in conversation about a recent sport game that somehow led to them talking about politics. Booth really wasn't a fan of discussing politics because so many people got too caught up in the conversation and their beliefs. He preferred to just side step the whole thing but for some reason today he was dragged into it. They may not have seen eye to eye but he found out that they had more in common than he thought possible. They couldn't have talked for more than maybe twenty minutes. That wasn't all that long. Bidding the man goodbye he entered into the lab to find that nobody was there. He had to search through every room until he stumbled across Zack and Angela, both busy working with a skeleton in the 'bone room'. He didn't know if that was the proper name of the room or not but that's how he thought of it with all the boxed skeletons on the walls. Bone room seemed like an appropriate title.

"Have you guys seen Bones?" he asked.

Zack answered with looking at him. "She and Hodges went out about an hour ago."

"What for?"

"A museum recently came into the ownership of a body," Angela answered him. "They wanted her to have a look over the remains, run some tests and what-have-you to see if the remains were authentic. Why is it such a problem?"

"It's snowing."

Angela shrugged. "Your point? Snow was in the forecast."

"Look, do you know when they'll be back? I kind of wanted to ask her something and I don't have much time. There's this big meeting back that the office that I was told I had better be present for."

"Fifteen minutes," estimated Zack.

So Booth decided to wait those fifteen minutes in the bone room with them. He watched silently as they did whatever it was that they were doing. He could have asked them but knowing Zack, he would get some really long explanation with hundreds of scientific words and terms that he did not understand. It was better to just let them work in peace. When the fifteen minutes had come and gone he bid them a fond farewell, perhaps a bit too cheerfully, and headed back toward the entrance of the Jeffersonian hoping to intercept them at the door. There was a bounce in his step but it vanished the minute he looked out the glass doors. He was in the Jeffersonian an hour at the most. An hour. Nothing more.

There was already at least a foot of snow on the ground. He stood there in awe, wondering where the white fluffy stuff came from. More of it was swirling down from the sky in such a fury that there were whiteout conditions. He couldn't even see the street from where he was standing. "Holy shit…" was all that he could think to say.

Zack and Angela came up behind him, probably looking for their boss. "That's a lot of snow," remarked Zack. "Looks like a blizzard."

"That wasn't in the forecast," protested Angela, a hint of worry in her voice.

Without wasting another minute Booth hit speed dial on his cell phone. The connection was fuzzy, crackly, but he managed to hear Bones pick-up on the other end. "Where are you?" he demanded instantly. He prayed that they weren't driving in this weather. They could get into an accident. If anything happened to her…

"_We're in the parking lot,_" came her reply. _"There's so much snow that it's hard to make out where the building is."_

"But you're otherwise okay?"

"_Sure,"_ she said. He heard Hodges make some smartass remark in the background about being stuck in a car with a dead body.

"Who is he talking to?" Dr. Goodman asked as he came upon the small group. After learning who was on the other end of the conversation he furrowed his brow in worry. "According to the news cast that I just saw they have no idea when this storm will end. It wasn't predicted and they're not really sure what's feeding it. They could be out in that car for a long time."

Angela shook her head. "Hodges can't stay out there."

Having paused in his conversation with Bones, Booth looked from Dr. Goodman to Angela, a plan already formulating in his mind. He told Bones to make sure that both she and Hodges were ready to go and that if they wanted the body it had better be good to go, too. Then he hung up without explaining to her what he was going to. Rushing back into the lab, followed closely by the squints, he started demanding things; rope, winter clothing, flares or a flashlight, extra rope. They separated to retrieve the items he had asked for not even knowing exactly what it was he planned to do. In those few moments alone he let out a deep breath, relaxing every muscle in his body. Being on edge would not help him in the long run. He needed to be cool, calm and collected. Zack was the first to return, his arms full of rope. There were three different lengths available. Booth opted for the longest one. It looked like his plan might just work. Dr. Goodman was the one who brought him a little metal case that contained a flare gun and some flares. He thanked the good doctor. And just as he was about to ask what was taking Angela so long the artist came back with some serious looking winter weather clothing. Booth wasted no time in donning the clothes provided. They were a little baggy but they would help keep him warm against the driving wind. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do for Hodges and Bones but he didn't plan to have them outside all that long.

The group headed for the back door where Booth tied one end of the longest rope around his waist. He handed the other end to Dr. Goodman. "Hold on to this, it'll help me find my way back in the snow." Without another word he took the other two ropes from Zack and plunged into the winter wonderland. It was as bad as he thought. The wind was harsh, driving the snow to create complete white out conditions. He should have called Bones and told her to put the cars lights on so that he could see it better but it was too late now, his phone wouldn't work in these conditions. Even if it did, he didn't think he'd be able to hear in the long run. Cursing himself he plowed on, the wind whipping at him and rustling his clothing.

Then by some miracle he saw the faintest glow of red taillights. She must have known what he planned to do. Of course she would; Bones had a way of knowing just about everything. He smiled, thanking her silently in his head. With renewed hope he made it to the car in a short burst of speed, knocking on the window, giving Bones a start. The next few minutes were crucial as both she and Hodges climbed out of the car and headed around back to retrieve the body. Booth made them each tie a rope around their waist. He then took the other ends and looped them through his own rope-belt. Now there was no way they could be separated from each other. The two scientists hoisted the body out of the car, he closed the trunk, and slowly they started back toward the Jeffersonian. Booth worried the entire way. They didn't have the protective clothing that he did; the cold temperature had to be taking one hell of a toll on their bodies. He kept glancing back over his shoulder to make sure that he didn't get too far ahead as he followed the rope, knowing that Dr. Goodman held the other end where it was safe and warm.

It seemed like an eternity before they were climbing the steps and standing before that back door. Much to Booth's relief Angela and Zack stood there waiting with warm blankets. The three adventurers trudged into the Jeffersonian, forcing the door closed behind them. Booth found that it was much quieter in the lab than it was outside in the unexpected blizzard. He figured that it had to be a Nor' Easter. That was the only explanation that he could come up with. The body ended up getting handed over to Dr. Goodman and Zack. Angela planted millions of kisses on Hodges face as the two of them embraced. Much to his surprise Bones turned to him and hugged him. He had been in the process of losing the heavy winter gear so it was an awkward hug at the best.

"Thank you, Booth," she said, warmth in her smile, a blanket draped over her shoulders.

He returned her smile. "You didn't actually expect me to leave you out there to freeze now did you?"

"You didn't have to risk your life…"

All of a sudden he frowned. "You know what; I want you to take Zack with you from now on. Can you do that?"

Everybody looked at with expressions of confusion.

"Well, this is the second time the two of you have been stuck in a car…once buried alive and this time you could have been frozen," he pointed out. "Maybe it would just be better to take Zack next time. Trust me, you'll be better off."


	11. Smile

**Eleven: Smile**

He sat glumly in his office. The day hadn't exactly been going the way he planned. He was supposed to be making headway on the case given to him at the beginning of the week but without a body and very little evidence…it was something akin to locating a needle in the proverbial haystack. How was he supposed to find a killer with only a picture of the crime scene and a letter written on a napkin that had been soaked through once, the writing barely legible? He could take it to the Jeffersonian and see if they could help him with all their science know-how but from what he remembered, last time he spoke with Bones, there was a lot of working going on at the lab. Some group of archaeologists, or whatever they were calling themselves these days, had dug up a massive grave and wanted the skeletons to be analyzed. This was definitely the type of stuff that the squints lived for, not helping him look over a photo of a vanished crime scene or handling a delicate napkin. He sighed, closing the folder and pushing it across his desk, then leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

Usually in his line of work he at least got to visit the crime scene. Unfortunately it had been along a cliff edge that didn't last all that long. The mass amount of recent rain was enough to cause a mudslide and away went the scene. From what he had been told they were actually working the scene when the ground started to give 'way. One of the scene investigators nearly lost his life when the mudslide began. They'd lost all their evidence and the body, a few field kits, too. All he had to go on was the picture and the napkin. What was he supposed to do with them? The only word he could make out on the napkin was 'whiskey' and that really wasn't a big help. For all he knew that was the drink the writer had been enjoying when making the note. Or maybe it was the name of somebody's dog. There were endless possibilities. And at this rate they were going to drive him crazy. He felt like kicking his desk or swearing a blue streak but neither option would make things better.

Then his phone rang, the sudden sound scaring the hell out of him. He really should have put the damned thing on vibrate, maybe then it wouldn't have sounded so loud in his silent apartment. He picked it up, failing to check caller ID and see who was calling. "Hello?" he said somewhat curtly, his frustration carrying over into the call.

"Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?"

And just like that his bad mood was gone, washed away with that simple phrase. "No, sorry, something work related. What can I do for you?" Every time she called his world came to a screeching halt. Nothing else mattered when she was in the picture. He turned his chair so that he was facing the wall instead of his desk.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch," she offered. "I've been stuck in the lab all day and the others headed out about…a half an hour ago. What do you say we meet at the regular place in a few minutes? Or are you busy?"

He felt the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Never too busy for you, Bones. I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Okay, great," she said. "See ya. I need to…uh…get the smell of decay off of me."

"Well don't let me keep you."

When she hung up he looked at his phone, wishing that she were still on the other end talking to him. It never ceased to amaze him how her voice was enough to make him feel like the most important person in the world. All she had to do was call him and the clouds covering his personal sun would fade into nothingness. How was it that she could have such an affect on him and not know it? How could she be so blind about his feelings for her? She was one of the smartest people he knew and yet…he sighed. One of these days he was going to tell her the truth, speak the words that he kept locked so deep inside. Okay, maybe not that deep since it seemed like the other squints and even her father were aware of his feelings.

Not wanting to be late for their date, for that was what he liked thinking of it as, he grabbed the keys off his desk and headed out the door, the frustrating case forgotten for the next few hours.

--

He made it to the usual spot a few minutes after her. She was sitting at a table near one of the windows, her eyes gazing out at something, her mind probably far from the current local. Because she hadn't yet noticed him he was able to study her. What was it about her that captivated him so? They came from two very different worlds. When they talked it was often about things neither one really understood. She had to explain all the scientific terms to him and all of his pop culture references were lost on her. Though every now and then she did manage to get one. And he _was_ starting to get the hang of the science thing. Maybe their differences were what brought them together. Didn't the saying going, opposites attract?

She must have felt him staring because she looked back over her shoulder and saw him, a smile on her face. He wasted little time in making his way over to the table, promptly falling into the chair across from her. In her presence it was next to impossible for him to feel like a hopeless case. He smiled at her, feeling everything just disappear once again until they were the only two people left in the world.

"What's with the smile?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied. "I'm just happy to see you. Can't I be happy to see my friend?"

"Of course. Hey, you should come by the Jeffersonian and see some of the things dug up at this site…"

And he settled into for a long lunch of listening to the one person in the world that mattered to him talk about her job


	12. Famous

**Twelve: Famous**

_Another best seller, _he noted, _like I would expect anything less._ He put down the paper and glanced at the article from afar. How did she manage to write such compelling works of art while keeping her busy day job at the Jeffersonian? It amazed him to no end. She truly was a wonder of a woman. Her latest book had taken her longer than usual to write, missing two deadlines, and all because her day job kept her working nearly twenty-four hours for three weeks. But that's what happens when a high profile case consumes the city and people end up afraid to leave their houses. Reaching into his desk he withdrew a pair of scissors and started cutting out the article. He had a copy of every single one of her books and with each book he had their article, their mention on the best sellers list. It was his way of keeping track of her legacy, all the important things she did. And that wasn't all that he had. He also had every article from the past few years on cases she worked and subsequently solved. He liked being able to read the black words on gray paper, look at the grainy newspaper photograph. If only she knew what it was like being so hopelessly in love with someone and not having them notice. It was driving him crazy. But soon he would remedy the situation. By the end of the night she would understand just ho w much she meant to him.

--

"This is crazy," she remarked as she looked around at the impressive crowd. "Why did I even bother to come here?"

"Uh, because museums are your kind of thing," Booth told her, his hands in the pockets of his pants. He thought about loosening his tie or maybe ditching it all together. It was one thing to wear a suit to work, another entirely to wear it when he was off the clock. But going to a museum, he felt like he had to dress up some. Something about the place told him that jeans and a nice shirt would be out of the question. And judging by how all the other people were dressed, he'd assumed correctly. Just by looking at the clothing one would have thought it was a red carpet event. Maybe on some level it was, after all, it was a convention for scientist of all walks of life. And that simple thought brought him back 'round to the question of what the hell he was doing here.

"I never expected it to be like this, though," she said, still not making her way toward the somewhat large swarm of geeks and squints

"What, would this be considered wild by your standards?"

"What's that supposed to me?"

He shrugged. "For some reason I just can't see a bunch of scientists cutting loose on the dance floor or anything like that. What sort of stuff happens at these things anyway?"

She blinked, looking at him like he was some foreign creature that happened to cross her path. She should have been used to his way of looking at the world, lacking all that scientific input. "Believe it or not we do dance, Booth. Maybe not like the kids in the clubs but there is dancing."

"Ballroom," he muttered.

Bones ignored him and kept on talking. "And there are a lot of things that happen. There are seminars, people talking about their research or new ways to conduct certain tests that give better results then we get now, and-"

"Don't tell me everything that happens," he interrupted, "let me be surprised. Should we head in or…?" He watched as stylishly dressed couple after couple walked through the glass doors into the museum. He very rarely came to the large building and had been shocked to know they had a whole convention center. Of course, that shock went right out the window when Bones asked him to accompany her to the function. Why hadn't she asked someone like Hodgins or Dr. Goodman or even Zack for that matter; the three of them were into this stuff. He was going to look like such an idiot when they all started talking in big words that he would later have to look up in the dictionary.

"Let's wait a few minutes more," she replied.

He watched the steady stream of people. "Why wait? You can't possibly be afraid of getting trampled by them." He was, of course, being his witty, sarcastic self, as usual. And as usual, it didn't really catch with her. "Let's just go in." Surprising her, and even himself, he took her by the hand and headed toward the stairs leading up the entrance. Then he felt a sudden tug. Looking back he saw that she'd stopped walking while he kept right on going. Cocking an eyebrow he asked, "What's wrong? I didn't think you knew what it was like to feel shy."

"I'm not shy," Bones protested. "Just having second thoughts about this whole thing."

"Second thoughts? Do you ever have second thoughts when it comes to science?"

"Let's ditch," she said out of nowhere. He wasn't even aware that she knew what the phrase meant.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. There has to be something we can do to kill a few hours. Know any good restaurants?"

He cracked a smile, only the second of the evening. The first had been when he picked her up and saw her in the dress, low-cut and beautiful. "Do I know any good restaurants? That's like asking you…well, like asking you anything that relates to bones. Come on, I have just the place."

--

The night hadn't gone as planned. He was supposed to tell her his true feelings, confess his soul to her. But now it looked like it would have to wait until another time. A time when he could talk to her in private. He sighed, watching as she walked off down the sidewalk hand in hand with that damned FBI agent. What he wouldn't give to get rid of the guy. Over the distance he could tell how pleased Agent Booth was and how much he loved the good doctor. But did he love her in all the right ways? Would their love ever become? Of course not, he assured himself. Because tomorrow he would finally step into the picture and tell her how he felt. Then Booth would be out of the picture for good. He waited until the climbed into the black SUV and pulled away from the curb before turning on his lights, pulling into traffic behind them. As he drove by the museum he wondered where they were going…


	13. Light

**Thirteen: Light**

"How about I just stay out here?" he said, looking into the yawning mouth of the cave. The last place he wanted to spend his afternoon was traipsing through some cave, especially since his flashlight didn't reach that far into the gloom. Why go venturing into the dark unknown when he could hang out in the bright sun under a clear blue sky? Given the option he wanted to remain in the open. It wasn't like he was claustrophobic or anything. He just didn't enjoy the idea of being underneath all that rock. He kept thinking about being buried alive.

Bones gave him a steady look. "Do I have to explain it to you again?"

"Yes."

She sighed. "This little device"- she held up a small camera- "will help map the cave. It's connected to the lap-top sitting on the tailgate of your SUV. Hodgins will be following us the entire way with the computer, mapping the cave and making notations. If he's out here I need someone to go with me into the cave incase we find anything."

"Why not take Zack? Or Dr. Goodman?"

"Because Dr. Goodman is in a meeting for another two hours and Zack was cataloging bones with Angela," she told him for the thousandth time. He was stalling as long as possible, not happy in the least about having to go into the cave. He didn't even want her going into the cave. Bad things could happen to them. "Stop being afraid, Booth. Don't let us squints show you up."

She did not just say that, did she? There was no way he could let the likes of scientist get the best of him. For one thing, he would never live it down at work. So much against his better judgment he followed her into the cave, leaving his suit jacket back at the 'camp site', as he had come to think of it. If only he had been able to handle the computer stuff then it would be Hodgins trudging through the rocky cavern instead of him. What he would not give to be back at the office listening to his boss drone on and on. Or even at the dentist having a tooth pulled. With one fleeting glance over his shoulder he saw the daylight fading fast as they headed deeper and deeper into the cave. He prayed that it wasn't a long cave and that they'd be back outside before he knew it.

--

Unfortunately, even the best laid plans of mice and men can go so horribly wrong. He sat on the cold stone, coughing as the dust finally started to settle. There was a warmth coursing down the side of his head, blood from the cut along his forehead. They must have been walking for some fifteen minutes when there was a sudden tremor. He knew without a doubt what it meant and he wanted to say something to Bones, like the fact that they should hightail it back to the opening. But his voice had been cut off by the rumble of another tremor, the sound of falling rocks deafening in the confined space. Somehow, somewhere a cave-in had taken place. As soon as that thought crossed his mind he could feel the tightening in his chest. This was exactly why he had wanted to stay outside. Now he was trapped…surrounded by rock…

"Booth?" he heard Bones call his name, followed by a cough of her own.

"Here," he replied. With the dust settled he could just barely make out where she was sitting. He tried to smile, tried to move and found that neither was possible. Every fiber of his body ached all of sudden. Most likely caused by his falling when the ground shook beneath him. Then out of nowhere he wondered if that was what an earthquake felt like.

"Are you okay?"

"If by that do you mean am I in one piece, then yes," he said. "But the idea of being stuck under all this rock…not okay."

"Don't worry. I'm sure that Hodgins is outside working with crews on the best possible way to get us out," she said to him. He could vaguely make out a shadow crawling toward him in the dim gray surrounding them. In the distance he could make out the faint glow of a flashlight but it looked to be a couple inches into the ground, most likely having fallen down a crevice. That was real comforting, especially since it looked like Bones no longer had her light with her. So much for their plan.

"They had better make it quick," he said. All of sudden he wanted something to drink. Where had that come from?

She placed a hand on his thigh and the next thing he knew she was sitting beside him, resting her head upon his shoulder. "I talked with Hodgins about this and there's a plan laid out. They should be here in about an hour, depending on how bad the cave-in is."

"What do you think caused it?" He really didn't care to know but he had to keep his mind busy.

He could feel her shrug beside him. "Beats the hell out of me. Water could have weakened the rock. There could have been a slight shifting in the ground. There are any number of possibilities."

"Have you ever been in a cave-in before?"

"Nope."

"That explains your optimism."

"I don't believe you've been in one either, Booth."

He raised his hands in the increasing darkness. "Guilty as charged."

"So much for that body."

"Why would you say that?" he frowned.

"I'm not going to go traipsing off in the dark, Booth. There are crevices and sharp points. Last time I checked neither one of us had a working flashlight."

"Yeah, thanks for pointing that out…again."

--

Hodgins couldn't believe that it took them three hours to make any real headway in the rubble at the cave entrance. As they worked he tried to figure out the reasoning behind the cave-in. Everything had been fine on the outside, the sun shining and the birds singing. He had been watching the progress of both the agent and the scientist on his laptop as they wove through the cave. He made a comment to one of the cops leaning against a cruiser, something about a ball game or maybe it had been a remark about his choice of music. That's when it happened. They'd all heard the thunderous roar, felt the ground shift. He turned in time to watch the entrance of the cave disappear behind a pile of rubble. Another twenty minutes passed before the dust finally dissipated. After that all the worrying started to take place. He used his walkie-talkie to try getting hold of Booth but it didn't work. There was no reply. He even tried calling though he knew the phones wouldn't be getting service that far under ground. It loomed over his head that he could be digging like hell through rocks and pebbles and boulders only to find that his boss, trusted friend and mentor was gone. How would that sit with him? Would he be able to return to work at the Jeffersonian?

"We're thru," one of the rangers said. Hodgins wanted to run into the small opening and find his boss but the rangers had already told him that it was not advisable for him to venture into the cave. All the retorts that popped into his head were choked back. The rangers were used to working cave-ins, he wasn't. So he continued to wait impatiently for the news on whether or not his boss was alive. And what about Booth? Working so hard to make things right in his life only to have that life ended by a bunch of unstable rocks? He shook his head. This couldn't be happening…

Eternity seemed to pass before the ranger came back out through the small hole. The damned opening wasn't even big enough to walk through; a person had to wiggle through on their stomach. With baited breath he watched as the ranger cleared the opening. Seconds turned to minutes before he saw another hand, followed by an arm and then there was Bones, dust covered but alive. He never felt so happy to see her in his life. And he made sure that he was there to offer her a hand to help her to her feet. No sooner did she make it out of the hole then Booth forced his way through. Hodgins never thought that he would see a look of panic on the agent's face…and he didn't think it would be good to mention it so he forgot that he ever saw it.

Booth rolled onto the ground, his eyes gazing upon the twilight sky. A childish grin spread across his face. "Light…sweet light…"


	14. Fire

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Never Knew Lonely

**Fourteen: Fire**

He stirred in his sleep but didn't wake up. After everything that had happened over the last few weeks he wanted nothing more than to sleep the whole night through, nightmares be damned. Not to mention, this was not the time nor place to let anyone see a glimpse of his weaknesses. He tossed and turned for hours before waking a few minutes after two in the morning. At first he didn't recognize where he was but then it all slowly came back to him. They were in a cabin up north somewhere. Some building that belonged to Hodgins' family. Hodgins and Angela had planned this big vacation for all of them around the Fourth of July. They all happened to have time off then, which Booth hadn't been aware of until Hodgins approached him and invited him along. Sleeping in a cabin far from his ex and son weren't exactly the plans he had in mind for the holiday but once he realized that Bones was going he couldn't say no. Any chance he had at making her see how much he cared…

When Hodgins said cabin he expected the place to be a small two-bed shack at best. Never did he imagine the palace that awaited them. The place looked more like a classy ski-resort than a personal cabin. That's when he reminded himself that Hodgins came from money. They could afford lavish vacation homes that they rarely if ever used. There were two bedrooms in the basement, which was really just a lower level built into a hill. Zack had taken one of them, him the other. Upstairs on the main floor Hodgins and Angela shared a room while Bones took the one across the hall. They'd been up pretty late that night, partying, playing games and just talking. He knew that when he got home there would be no living down the fact that he'd gone on a vacation with the squints. His fellow agents were already on his case about the amount of time he spent hanging out with the science geeks. He'd stopped caring a long time ago about what other people thought of him. Worrying about how others saw him was definitely no way to live his life.

Sighing, now feeling wide awake, he rolled out of bed and padded across the floor to the small window high up on the wall. It was only one of those tiny basement-like windows but it was big enough to allow him a view of the silver moon outside in the clear night sky. When he thought of cabins as a child he always envisioned them buried deep in the dead woods of winter, snow everywhere. He never thought of being in one during the middle of summer and it gave him a whole new perspective. A few minutes later he was ready to return to the comfort of the bed when he heard the faintest of knocks on his bedroom door. Frowning, he crossed the room and pulled the heavy wooden door open. A chill from the hall made him shiver since he was only wearing a pair of pajama bottoms. Standing in the hallway was Zack, the last person he expected to see.

"What can I do for ya in the middle of the night?"

"Do you smell smoke?" he asked point blank. "It's not overpowering but I definitely keep getting hints of smoke."

Booth stepped into the hallway and inhaled deeply. He didn't smell anything but wood and wood polish. "I don't smell it," he said.

"Oh…I just…" Zack looked flustered, a hint of a blush creeping across his cheeks. Light spilled out of his bedroom and into the hallway giving Booth a good look at him. And then he smelled it. At first he didn't notice it but the further into the hallway he got the more he could smell it.

"Now that you mention it…" He walked out into the middle of the hallway and took a deep breath. "Yep, that's definitely the smell of smoke. Question is, where is it coming from?"

"Upstairs maybe?"

Booth figured he had to be right. The two lower bedrooms were at the end of a hall and he could see into the rather spacious entertainment room that held the pool table and the big screen television with the large collection of DVDs. There was definitely no light coming from that direction, the house dark and silent. But there was the smell of smoke and it had to be coming from somewhere. He forgot all about going back to bed as he headed into the larger room and toward the stairs. Without having to look back he knew that Zack was following him. For some reason he couldn't help feeling like Zack was his son. Maybe it had to do with the simple fact that Zack was still young and somewhat child-like, even if he was a serious scientist at work. Booth felt protective of him. He also felt like a father checking the house for monsters so his son could sleep again. The closer he got to the stairs the heavier the smell became. At the foot of the stairs it was almost too much, the smoke stinging his eyes. Not a good sign.

Without wasting another moment he headed up the stairs, Zack on his heels. He wasn't half way up the stairs when he heard the familiar snap and crackle of a raging fire. He'd been near enough of them to know that sound. His heart began to beat faster, panic trying to gain control of his body. As he reached the landing he saw the bright orange flames. They'd just about completely consumed the kitchen and were working on the living room and dining room. In a matter of moments the two bedrooms down the short hall would be cut off. His friends…

He turned back to Zack. "Do you have your cell phone?" The squint shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. "Run downstairs and get it. Then head outside and call for help. Don't waste any time, you hear me?"

Zack was too afraid to speak so he only nodded his head in understanding.

"Then go," Booth nearly shouted when the younger man didn't move. Zack headed back down the stairs. Booth looked at the flames, a cough rising from his chest as the smoke began to curl around him. He wished that he'd been sensible enough to grab something he could drape over his nose and mouth but time was of the essence so he'd have to deal with the smoke inhalation. Maybe he could get by with breathing less, space things outs, slow his heart rate. He started for the hallway, the heat of the flames licking at him from the left. Ignoring them he headed for the first bedroom and began beating on the door with everything he had. Surprisingly, the sound of his banging and eventual yelling woke up Bones first, who was in the room behind him. When he glanced back over his shoulder at her he saw that her mouth was open to say something but the words were forgotten when she saw the fire. He pointed frantically toward the front door and yelled for her to make sure Zack was safe before he resumed trying to wake up Hodgins and Angela. In a matter of seconds Bones disappeared into the thick smoke.

The minute that passed afterward felt like eons before the door finally opened. Hodgins looked like he was ready to yell but just like Booth all of his anger was forgotten when he noticed that the cabin was on fire. Booth waited while Hodgins returned the darkness of the room and returned a few minutes later with Angela, pulling her after him, the fog of sleep still hanging over her. He let the two lovebirds go ahead of him, bringing up the rear. By the time they reached the front door the fire had started creeping down the hall, mere feet away from the staircase leading downstairs. The three of them stumbled into the cool of the night and kept going until the reached the relative safety of the driveway. Zack and Bones were waiting for them there. The cry of sirens could be heard in the near distance.

"Oh thank you, Booth," Angela cried, wrapping her arms around Booth in a sudden embrace.

"Don't thank me," he managed to get out before coughing again. "Thank Zack. He was the one who smelled smoke."

Zack blushed again as he was hugged not only by Angela but also by Bones.

"Sorry about your cabin," Booth said. He was sitting on the gravel driveway.

Hodgins looked at the building, flames blazing out the windows, and shrugged. "It's only a building, Booth. Something money can replace. All that matters is that everybody is out."

"So much for a quiet vacation," he couldn't help remarking.

Hodgins smiled as the firetruck finally came into view. "Guess we celebrated the Fourth of July with a bang, huh?"


	15. Enough

**Note: **Just want to thank my few reviewers.

* * *

**Fifteen: Enough**

There comes a time in life when people decide that they've had enough. At that point most people will throw down their work, brush off a colleague and storm out of a building or they scream in frustration because they really can't take it anymore. For the most part he's never had to worry about such things. His job has kept him so busy with all the different angles that there's rarely time for him to get bored and frustrated. Not to mention, working with scientists has helped him a lot. They are able to see the things that might have gone unnoticed because he wasn't trained the same way they were. All of his training came from the Military and though they were big on details he had never stood above a skeleton and had to report on how the victim died. Or whether or not the victim was male or female, their race and their age. Hell, to this day he still doesn't understand most of the stuff but he tries, oh how he tries. Over the years he's managed to pull together a basic understanding of the work that his favorite squints do at the Jeffersonian. Maybe that's why he's always pressuring them when the cases stall. It's not that he gets mad at them he just knows that with a little prodding they'll get to where the answers are and that's the most important place to be when there's a skeleton on the table.

Some people might think that his world is warped or out of focus. He _does_ spend a lot of time looking at the deceased and hearing about gruesome murders while waiting for a patch of bones to finish boiling. Yeah, so it does seem a little weird, and maybe just out of touch, out of focus, but he really wouldn't change anything. Well, his career in the Military is always something that he goes back to. All those people that he killed…if given the chance would he go back and do it again? Probably, even knowing what he knows now. It wasn't right of him to choose who had the right to live and who was going to die. Of course, he never really made that choice he just pulled the trigger that finalized it. Now back on his home turf and working for the Federal Bureau of Investigations he tried like hell to make up for his past sins. But were they really sins? It all depended on the day and his mood. One day they would be sins and he'd try to make amends by doing something right. And then there days when he knew that if not for a few deaths things would be drastically different. It was a tricky balancing act but one that he was getting used to.

Today, however, none of that matters to him. Today all he wants to do is drive to the Jeffersonian, wave to his friends and walk into Brennan's office. There is something on his mind that has been there practically from day one. And it doesn't want to remain there anymore, fighting to break free of its cage. Sometimes it's nice to leave words unspoken, thoughts unheard. Other times the only way to achieve peace is to get those thoughts out into the open. For years now he has been keeping from her the way he truly feels. But that's all going to end soon. After today everything will be different.

The question is whether or not the result will be good or bad.

That remains to be seen.

His hands are sweaty on the steering wheel as he navigates the busy, sometimes choked, streets of Washington DC. When he first landed in the city it wasn't exactly that great but he had his son nearby and at the time that's all that mattered. Now there is so much more in the city, so many reasons for him to stay. The biggest reason of course, is her. It will always be her. Even if she does not feel the same then he will happily be her friend. In the long run all he really wants is for her to be a part of his life. She's important to him in ways that no one else has been. And he's been grateful for her friendship. But he's reaching the point where friendship is settling. He has to know one way or the other how she feels. Only then can he be happy as a mere friend, if that's what she wants.

Parking in front of the lab he kills the engine and climbs out into the bright sunlight of the warm late spring day. For once he doesn't have a crime scene to call her to or a file to show her. This is a personal call, not something business related. Though, had it not been for business he never would have met her and his life never would have changed. Maybe there was some good in dead people after all. He quickly banishes that thought before allowing it to fester and take root. Dwelling too long on a fleetingly horrible thought is enough to ruin his good mood. Nothing is going to ruin his mood. He wants to be upbeat, happy when he sees her. She can't possibly know that there's something weighing heavily on his mind. He won't allow it.

The first person he sees is Zack, the youngest of the group. The two of them have a weird relationship, probably because there is so much potential in Zack but he's fading from society like his boss. Having intellect is all fine and good, but a man also needs to have friends and a life outside of his job. Further into the lab he catches Hodgins, the rich boy who works, deep in conversation with the only woman to ever hold the key to his heart, Angela. And that leads him to thinking how she got mixed up in the business of the lab. She's so sensitive sometimes. But her art is amazing and without her skills so many cases would have remained unsolved. He just hopes that in the long run she is not permanently damaged by the things she sees here.

Before he knows it he's knocking on Brennan's office door; which is open just a crack. She ushers him in over the sound of typing and he knows for a fact that she's working on one of her books. He's read all of them but hasn't said anything to her about it. Maybe he's ashamed. But why? She's an amazing author. Everything about her is amazing, especially in his eyes.

She smiles when she sees him and his heart flutters. "Hey," he somehow manages to get out like there's nothing wrong. He sounds cool, calm and collected.

"What brings you by?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Just thought I'd come see what you're doing. Things are slow on my end and I'm getting bored."

"Are you hoping someone will die?"

"No," he is quick to say. She can't think of him as some monster. "I…they could give me a case on…anything but they haven't so…" He shrugs. "You don't mind if I hang out here a while, do you?"

"Of course not," she tells him, gesturing toward the couch. "Make yourself comfortable."

He does just that, flopping onto the sofa without a care in the world. Almost instantly she resumes typing and he wonders how she can find the time to write such lovely novels. Where do her ideas come from? A lot of people would say that art imitates life but he's read some of her books and though there are connections between the two he can't figure out the original ideas. But does it really matter? She writes beautifully and for that he is thankful. Before he wasn't a big fan of reading, when did he have the time? Now he makes sure that he has time to read her work. And what he wouldn't give to tell her how he loves the way she writes. He loves everything about her. He wants to tell her that so badly that it's starting to eat away at him. He looks at her, her eyes trained on the monitor, the only sound in the room the clicking of the keyboard keys. Yes, he'll tell her but not today. No, today he's happy enough to just be in her presence. Sometimes that's all it takes to make him happy; being near her. And today, that's all he wants, to see her smile, to be there when she needs help. When tomorrow comes, he will finally tell her how he feels.


	16. Sight

**Sixteen: Sight**

"Where the fuck…" he muttered under his breath as he edged ever so slowly around the corner, his gun pointed toward the ceiling. Somewhere within the depths of the building there was a killer, some murderer that he'd been trying to find for over a week or two now. It was driving him crazy. It all started with the body that was dug up in the empty lot set to become a park. At first the squints could find nothing to go on. But then they stumbled across something in a cracked rib and it seemed to snowball from there. That was actually the easy part. Figuring out who the skeleton belonged to and tracking down the family was iffy, but manageable. Now all that needed to be done was to put the piece of shit that killed the kid behind bars. At least, that's what he'd been trying to do. The guy seemed to be one step ahead of him all the time. It was starting to drive him crazy. There had to be a way for him to get ahead. So he started digging around, became obsessed with the case. And that obsession eventually led him to the abandoned house he was currently poking around in. There was no doubt in his mind that the person he so desperately sought was somewhere in the crumbling two-story home. It was only a matter of where. As he turned another corner he silently hoped his back-up would arrive in time.

He searched the entire first floor and found nothing but peeling wallpaper and a rather large hole in the kitchen floor. He didn't relish the though of having to head upstairs for fear the stairs would give out under his weight. But that looked to be the only place that his prey could be hiding. As that thought crossed his mind he heard the sound of footsteps above his head. On instinct he pointed his gun in that direction. Should he just shot through the floor and be done with it all? Take that fight out of the murderer, bring him to the ground, make life a little easier? No, he couldn't shoot through the floor. What if by some freak chance the person upstairs wasn't the person he was looking for? The last thing he wanted to do was to shoot an innocent bystander. It would haunt him and he really didn't need any more things haunting him. He dealt with enough sleepless nights as it was.

Creeping around the next corner he put a foot on the first step, testing it to make sure that the damned thing would hold his weight. He was also checking to see whether or not it would creak as he put his full weight down. With some remarkable ease he was on the mid-way landing before he even realized. The stairs curved around and headed up to the second landing, another few steps and he'd be poking around the upper floor. After seeing the state of the first floor he knew that watching his step was crucial. One tiny misstep could send him crashing through to the floor below, which with any luck would be strong enough to hold him. He highly doubted it. He took the stairs slowly, not wanting to give himself away. Unfortunately the last step creaked, the sound unbearably loud in the otherwise quiet house. He cringed, every fiber of his body on high alert. His heart beat frantically in his chest, waiting for his prey to lunge at him in a last stand.

But nothing happened.

He let out a slow, measured breath as he officially stepped onto the second landing. To his left there were two rooms, both doors wide open, sun shining in through busted windows. The wind whistled through a small opening somewhere overhead. Glancing quickly to his right he saw three doors, one of which was broken, revealing an empty closet. He tried to gauge where the footsteps had been when he was downstairs and opted to head toward the left end of the hallway. Slowly, making sure to check over his shoulder every other second, he crept toward the first open door. If he could just clear one room and then the other he would be fine, he could check the other end of the hallway without a problem. But these were the moments he really hated, the nerve wracking moments. At any moment the killer could jump out at him, surprise him and then the struggle would ensue. He wanted to avoid that part of the doomed plan.

Luck, however, wasn't exactly on his side.

The man jumped out from one of the rooms in the right end of the hallway, a large piece of two-by-four in his hands, a crazed look in his eye. Booth spun around, his gun pointed at the guy's chest but just as he went to pull the trigger the piece of wood connected with the side of his head. The pain was intense, a bright flash of light filling his vision, a loud bang echoing in his ears. He felt the familiar recoiling of the pistol gripped firmly in his arms, smelled the gun powder. Then he was falling, the world blacking out around him. He felt the impact, the fall to the wooden floor jarring his body. Underneath him the weakened floor groaned but did not give out, for which he was thankful. And then the world faded away.

--

When he finally started to come to he could hear the buzz of people around him, the low murmur of voices as they talked. The closer he got to the surface the louder the voices became until he realized that they were in the same hallway, mere feet away. And then the panic began to sink in. He could feel that his eyes were open but nothing looked remotely right. There was blackness in his right eye, the side hit by the old piece of wood, and the left side was horribly blurry, almost like he was in a fishbowl. He made the attempt to move but a hand placed on the center of his chest kept him in place. He tried to make out the person the hand belonged to but all he really saw was a vague shape.

"What the…" Hadn't he muttered those words a little while earlier? He couldn't exactly remember.

"The paramedics don't want you to move," Bones said, her voice surprisingly soothing. What the hell was she doing at the scene? This part of the job was none of her business. And even as he thought about that he realized it was comforting to have her around. Mainly because it was like she could read his mind. "You managed to put a bullet in the guy's chest before your back-up got here. They're not sure he's going to make it and I'm pretty sure a lot of them don't really care."

"That's nice."

He couldn't tell that she was frowning. "You don't sound happy…what's wrong?"

"My head feels like it's on fire."

"You got hit pretty good, which is why you aren't allowed to move until they have a good look at you," she told them. "I would gladly do it but…they don't think I'm qualified to examine a living body."

"Bones?"

"What Booth?"

"I can't….my right eye…there's nothing but the dark…" Hearing the worry, the fear in his voice, those were foreign to him. He wasn't used to feeling that way and it only made matters worse.

"Probably has something to do with the blood," she remarked. "Guy hit your rather hard and there's a lot of blood. You can't even open your right eye."

He felt a wave of relief wash over him. "But my left eye is open?"

"Yes."

"Dammit."

"What?"

"Everything is blurry," he finally admitted.

When Bones next spoke she didn't sound too worried. "Well, you did get hit pretty hard in the head, Booth. It stands that you would be having problems with your hearing and vision. You probably have an awful concussion. I wouldn't worry about it too much though, your vision will come back."

"I hope you're right or I'm out a job…"

For some reason she chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"You are the only person I know that receives a serious blow to the head and only worries about his job," she told him.

"I have my priorities." What he didn't want her to know was that without his job he feared that he would never see her again. Of course, he couldn't really see her all that well at the moment anyway. He wanted to rub at his left eye to see if that would make things better but when he tried to he felt the familiar pressure of Bones holding him down. She really didn't want him moving and that sent a new fear creeping into his chest. Had the blow to his head been bad enough to fracture his skull or damage his spine? He couldn't really remember what had happened after the initial contact of two-by-four and skull. Had his head whipped to the side and something been broken? Panic was starting to well in his chest when he realized that Bones was talking to someone on his right. A paramedic. They had finally gotten to him. A few minutes later he felt a cool sensation over his right eye as the paramedic washed away the blood. Bones must have said something to him about it…

Before he knew it he was looking out of his right eye and things were pretty clear, only the slightest hint of a blur. When he closed his right eye he noticed that most of the blur in his left eye had gone away too. The panic eased, his vision coming back to him. He forced himself to listen to the paramedic as the man conversed with Bones. They were talking about stitches and the need for a neck brace. He hadn't quite realized the hit had been that bad. But he counted himself lucky because he could feel his toes; he even managed to wiggle them. And he could still feel the slight pressure from Bones on his arm and chest. That had to mean something. Of course, the greatest thing of all was the simple fact that he could still see. Being paralyzed would have sucked but with his eyesight he would still be able to gaze upon the only thing that truly mattered in his world. And though she was a little blurry at the moment and deep in conversation with another man he could feel his heart rate increasing as it always did when she was around.


	17. Thunder

**Seventeen: Thunder**

Booth gazed out the window at the rain. When he'd arrived it had only been a light shower, a pleasant sprinkle that should have passed in a matter of minutes. But that didn't happen. No, the devious shower grew into a rainstorm, the force of the little droplets falling faster. At least he made it safely inside before the storm officially began. Despite the fact that he was now stuck inside on what had been the promise of a wonderful, beautiful night he didn't much mind the rain. They'd had no rain in the area for the last few weeks and it was greatly needed. He knew that come tomorrow some people would bitch and complain about their plans being ruined but in the long run they would see that a few ruined plans were okay. He would ask them which is worse, a few ruined plans or a huge fire sparked by some careless idiot? He knew that the amount of rain they received wouldn't be enough to break the small drought that they were currently under but it was a start and that's all that mattered.

"Booth, what are you doing?"

He glanced back over his shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest. "Watching the rain, why?"

Bones cocked an eyebrow. "Just curious. Everyone else is in the other room."

"Aside from Hodgins".

"Aside from Hodgins," she echoed.

Two weeks ago they had received the invitations from the rich scientist to attend a barbecue at his place. Booth was planning to pass it up since this was supposed to be his weekend with Parker. Only things hadn't worked out quite like they were planned. There was the whole clown shooting incident that displeased his ex and she decided that Parker deserved a trip to Disney World on the weekend he should have been with his father. Since there was nothing else for him to do he showed up at the party without an RSVP knowing that it would be rude but that Hodgins wouldn't mind in the least. And he'd been right in that assumption, Hodgins, upon seeing him, had muttered something about the more the merrier. Of course, then it decided to rain which knocked away all their plans for a big barbecue out on the deck with the music blaring and all the fun things that happened when adults got together with alcohol and no work the next day.

Booth had to give Hodgins credit. Instead of letting the weather dampen his mood he run outside and managed to pull the grill in through a backdoor into the garage, where last time Booth checked he was firing it up for a good time. The Federal agent wasn't too keen on the idea of grilling in the house but he figured that Hodgins knew what he was doing. The guy was a scientist after all. Unfortunately, the garage just didn't have the same atmosphere as a deck under the brilliantly star-lit sky. But it would have to do. It was either that or order out and Hodgins refused to do that since he'd already bought all the hamburgers and the rest of the fixings for a barbecue.

He turned away from the window so that he could focus entirely on Bones. "So how are things going out there? Anybody blow up yet?" He asked, thinking of that time Hodgins and Zack nearly blew themselves up at the lab.

"The first round of hamburgers is just about done," she remarked. "And Angela has Dr. Goodman and Zack playing a game of charades."

"Zack, playing charades?"

Bones shrugged. "He's actually pretty good at it…once he stops thinking too scientifically."

"That's the problem with scientists," he muttered as he walked past her headed in the direction of the garage.

"What is the problem with scientists?" Bones asked as she caught up with him.

"You guys are always thinking scientifically."

She frowned, not seeing what he was getting at. "How can I do my job if I don't think about things in a scientific way?"

"All I'm saying is step outside the box once in a while," said Booth, walking through the open door into the garage. Dr. Goodman was standing before Zack and Angela, who were seated on lawn chairs, acting out something in their game. Hodgins was standing behind the grill with an apron boring a smartass remark and can of something liquid in one hand. Booth wanted to say that it was beer but he couldn't be sure. Did any of them drink alcohol? A low rumble of thunder tore across the sky, stopping everyone from what they were doing.

"Guess we're in for a good one," Angela commented.

"We need the rain," pointed out Zack. "And Dr. Goodman, your movie was Jaws."

"How do you know anything about Jaws?" Booth asked before he realized it.

Zack blushed the slightest bit. "I watch movies."

"But Jaws?"

"What's wrong with watching Jaws? It's about a shark that kills people," Zack responded with. "Do you have any idea what the statistics of a shark attack are?"

Another crack of thunder rolled over them, drowning out the conversation and shaking the house. The small group looked around the garage; saw the bright flash of lightning through the small windows high up on the walls. Booth shook his head. They really didn't need a thunderstorm, the amount of rain that had fallen since his arrival was not nearly enough to make things good and soaked. One wrong lightning strike and something was going to go up in flames. He opened his mouth to say something when it thundered out again. Then Angela shrieked as they heard what sounded like an explosion and the lights went out. The only person visible in the sudden darkness was Hodgins, and that was purely because he stood in the glow of the grill.

For some reason he felt the urge to speak up before Zack or Bones could start talking about a way to light the room with other materials. "Do you have any candles?" he asked simply.

"There should be some in a drawer in the kitchen, though how you'll find your way there without tripping over something…"

He heard the rustle of keys. Then a small beam of light was shined in his direction. "I have a tiny flashlight for using at crime scenes," said Bones. "I think it should light your way, unless that's too scientific for you, Booth."

"It's fine."

Together the two of them traipsed into through the darkness back into the kitchen. After rifling through a few draws Booth found what he was looking for, a bunch of candles and a box of matches. He even found two flashlights and a camping lantern in the drawer most people would have used to store their pots and pans. He gathered what he could and gave a few things to Bones. Before heading back to the garage he made sure that the lantern and both flashlights worked. Upon returning to the garage, lights forcing the darkness to retreat, Angela and Dr. Goodman helped set up candles, lighting them so that the garage was bright enough that nobody would be tripping over everything. The storm continued to rage outside.

And Booth started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Bones asked.

"Just…I was standing by the window thinking about partying under the stars and now…" Candles flicked here and there on available surfaces, filling the room with a grey warmth.

"Who wants a hamburger?" Hodgins asked. "First batch is done."

Despite the unexpected rain and the blackout the night turned out to be great, an evening well spent. There was much laughter and many games played by the light of candles. Zack was the first one to fall asleep but it was only a matter of time before the rest of them eventually faded away. And by then, the storm was over and the sun's first rays were peaking through the clouds.


	18. Time

**Eighteen: Time**

_8:57am_

She sat in front of her computer staring at the monitor and the black lines across the white. She'd been sitting at her desk for the last hour and half. She was supposed to be working on her story. All that remained was the last chapter and she'd been weeks ahead of her deadline. But despite having been at the computer so long she'd only managed to get out a paragraph. And she wasn't even sure that she liked it all that much. She kept reading and rereading the lines in hopes that it would grow on her or spark an idea for the remaining chapter. However, it just wasn't working for her that way. She let her hands fall away from the keyboard as she let out a frustrated sigh. She continued to stare at the screen until the words all melted into one big black mess. Then, without warning, she reached out and hit the backspace key, holding it down until all the words had vanished from the screen. She would have to start over. She could make this work…even if it took her all day.

_10:05am_

They worked tirelessly at the skeleton laid out on the table before them. Roughly an hour ago Temperance had been out to see how things were going but they were doing just fine without her. So she had confidently left them alone to get the work done. It's not like they were doing something for an active investigation. It was just some body that would end up on display at a museum somewhere so that people could gawk at it. Still, they were to make sure the bones were clean and look for any signs of weapon marks or other tall-tale signs that would speak of the person's past. They bones were easily a hundred years old so they were being extra careful with things. In order to get things done quicker they had divided the work. Hodgins was a little bummed that there weren't bugs or slime to work with but at least he was doing something instead of wasting time. Of course, had their time been free he probably would have talked Zack into some crazy experiment with him so he decided that the skeleton was a good thing in the long run. Last time they tried an experiment it had blown-up and though that had been fun…well, some people were displeased with the situation.

"Hey Zack, does this look like a knife mark to you?" he asked holding up one of the poor saps ribs.

Zack came over, took the bone to give it a closure inspection. "Nope, too sharp for a knife and it's the wrong shape.

Hodgins smiled. "Thank you. I wanted to ask if you thought it was made by a spearhead but figured you'd laugh it off. Now I know better."

"Do you think the spear is what killed him?" Zack questioned.

"There's only one way to find out…"

_12:39pm_

Here it was, her lunch break, and instead of getting out of the lab for some fresh air she had cooped herself up in her room. The buzz and hum of computer equipment all around her drowned out the sounds of Zack and Hodgins having too much fun with their project out in the main part of the lab. Today was definitely one of the slowest days at the lab. In fact, her shift was half over and she'd yet to see Temperance. Her boss was probably using her free time to finish that next novel that would go on to become yet another best seller. How Temperance managed to keep up with the demands of her job and write such compelling novels was beyond her. In working for the Jeffersonian she had given up a promising career in the wonderful world of art. Sure she got to use her artistic abilities to help every once in a while but it just wasn't the same. She missed sketching and doing artwork for the sake of art. So with nothing else to do today she had taken out her sketch pad and a box of charcoals and got to work. In the beginning she had no idea what she wanted to sketch, she just put charcoal to paper and let her hand flow freely across the paper.

As she picked absentmindedly at her salad she tried to figure out what the picture needed to officially finish it. It needed something…one last touch…

_4:15pm_

She finally managed to finish her novel. It took her all day but she pulled it off, typing out the last chapter in a heated flurry. Content with her work she hit the save button and then sent it to print. Tomorrow she'd post it to her agent. Tonight she could relax, enjoy herself.

_6:45pm_

Zack and Hodgins were still busy with their museum skeleton, having found more than one mark made by the head of a spear. They were having fun identifying all the marks and coming up with a theory about how the poor man had gotten stabbed so many times. At this point they were ready to say that multiply stab wounds had killed the man but then Zack stumbled across some damning evidence. Not a single one of the stabs wound had been fatal. No, in fact, there man had been strangled. And for some reason that made Hodgins laugh.

_9:02pm_

It had been a busy day for him. He'd called off work around noon when he realized that he was going to be spending the day behind his desk. Once outside in the bright sunlight he placed a call to his ex and asked if he could have Parker for the day. He wanted to spend some quality time with his boy. She seemed only too eager to give him what he wanted. So he picked up his boy and they headed to the ocean. They spent a few hours messing around on the beach before killing another hour in an arcade. They swung by the National Zoo and he made sure that Parker got to see all the animals on exhibit. Before heading back home they picked up a pizza and some movies. But instead of watching the movies they ended up playing video games until Parker's bedtime rolled around. He tucked his son in knowing that in the morning he would have to take him back to his mother's but at least today has been theirs and that was all that mattered in the end.


	19. Halloween

**Nineteen: Halloween**

An orange harvest moon sat in the star-speckled night helping to keep an eye on the people below. Tonight marked the end of October, the 31st day in the month; which meant that it was Halloween. Kids were out on the streets walking from house to house in search for candy. Most parents dreaded this day for the simple fact that it involved candy, a substance known to lead to sugar highs and cause cavities. But a child who couldn't celebrate Halloween was missing out on the fun of dressing up as someone else, pretending to be a monster or a hero or even a ballerina just for one night. It helped to build their imagination, helped instill in them the idea that they could be whatever they wanted when they grew up. And of course, what would Halloween be without the pranksters, the teenagers that are too old for trick-or-treating but still want to enjoy the nights. They run around terrorizing the children, egging houses and cars, or toilet papering houses. Someone always had to come along and ruin the fun. But Booth tried not to think about that as he slipped into the Jeffersonian Institute. He thought it was a weird place to have a Halloween party but then again, most of the people attending would be scientists. He was the only Federal Agent to be invited. He was the only one that really got along with the squints so that didn't come as much of a surprise.

Once inside the warm building he followed the sound of music, the words of _Monster Mash_ drifting down the hallway. Somewhere within the confines of the building he would find his friends. At least he hoped that he'd be able to find them. After all, this party was a costume party. He didn't mind attending the party but if he couldn't locate Bones or Hodgins or even Zack then he was going to leave. He didn't know all the scientists and people employed by the Jeffersonian. A short walk led him to the main party room, the door standing open. He glimpsed inside at all the costumed partiers. There were, as he expected, heroes and monsters, ballerinas and even a gorilla. He saw just about every costume one could imagine but could not for the life of him make out where his friends were. Then he spotted Angela as she walked toward him.

He smiled. "Nice to see somebody I know." Only the words came out with a slight lisp. He had decided to attend the party dressed as a vampire. It was one of the simplest costumes, especially with all the suits hanging in his closet. Unfortunately he wasn't quite used to the false fangs.

"Always in a suit, don't you know how to break out of character?" Angela asked him. Booth hazarded that she was dressed as a gypsy from her long flowing dress, wacky hairdo, and all the bracelets that she wore. The outfit actually worked for her.

With a shrug he said, "I didn't really have time to run out to the store and look at costumes. I've been busy with that damned serial rapist that was running rampant through the city. Now he's safely locked behind bars. I barely had enough time to purchase the cape and false teeth."

"Well, you make a very handsome vampire."

"Thank you. Where is everybody else?"

"I'm right here," Hodgins said as he came to join them. The only reason that Booth knew it was Hodgins was by the sound of the scientist's voice. He was not in the least surprised to find that Hodgins had dressed up like an alien. For some reason that just seemed right to him, after all the scientist was a little on the paranoid side.

"Nice costume."

"Back at you," Hodgins said. Then he took a hold of Angela's hand. "Come my lovely earth woman, I feel the need to dance."

Angela glanced at Booth with the oddest expression on her face, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "This should be interesting."

The two of them drifted off into the crowd on the dance floor, leaving Booth alone once again. He gave the room another going over in an attempt to locate Bones but he still couldn't find her. He did, however, notice that Zack was walking toward him wearing a pair of slacks, a sweater vest over a button-down shirt, and a pair of glasses. For a moment he wasn't sure if the kid had even bothered to come dressed for the party but then he remembered that Zack didn't typically wear glasses. The younger man came to a stop beside him.

"Geek or nerd?" Booth felt the need to ask.

"Professor," replied Zack with a frown.

"Don't they usually wear like tweed jackets or something?"

"Does it matter? This is a ridiculous way to celebrate a holiday."

Booth knew that if he opened his mouth he would get a lecture he didn't want but for some reason he did it anyway. "It's Halloween, Zack. This is a night for playing dress-up and having some fun. What's so wrong about that?"

Zack's face took on that serious expression that meant a lecture was forthcoming. "Did you know that Halloween actually started out as Samhain, the New Year for Pagans, specifically for those of the religion of Wicca. They don't dress-up and have parties. They remember the ones that have passed on. They light candles to light the way for the departed souls because on this night it is said that the veil between worlds is thin. Samhain is actually one of the only Pagan holidays not to be usurped by a Christian holiday in the old days when they tried to force people to change religions. Did you know that Jesus wasn't even born in December? They decided it would be the best way to take away the power of Yule-"

"That's all really fascinating, Zack," Booth interrupted before the kid could really get going. "Have you any idea where Bones is? I don't think I'm going to stick around all night and I'd like to have a word with her."

"Last time I saw her she was headed toward her office. I think she was muttering something about having to work."

"Thanks."

Booth wasted no time in leaving the party behind. He didn't want to risk walking right into another lecture. He also didn't want to stick around all night. For the last week and half he'd been busy trying to track down a serial rapist. There had barely been any time for him to sleep. He was tired. Now that the guy was safely behind bars the last thing Booth really wanted to do was spend all night at a party with scientists. The only reason he arrived in the first place was to make an appearance. He wanted them to believe that he was a good guy, that he wasn't like all the other agents. Truth be told, he wasn't. Now he'd have a polite chat with Bones and then head home for some much needed rest. The remainder of the Jeffersonian was eerily quiet as he walked toward her office. He wondered what work it was that she so desperately wanted to get done. Was it the simple fact that she wanted to be away from the party? He knew that she wasn't exactly the type for such things. Of course, Zack proved that even he didn't understand the real joy of Halloween. Who dressed as a professor?

He knocked softly on her partially closed door, waited for her to invite him in. "Hey Bones, happy All Hallows Eve."

"I don't have time for partying," she remarked barely glancing at him.

"Book deadline?"

"Always."

"Do you mind if I hang out in here for a while, keep you company?"

That definitely got her attention. She looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Wouldn't you rather be at the party?"

"Nah," he said plopping down on the sofa, pulling out his false fangs and slipping them into his pocket. "I'd rather spend the night here with you."


	20. Without

**Twenty: Without**

Heavy gray clouds blanket the sky, covering the world in a dismal, sad, lonely feeling. They held strong to their threat of rain, bloated with the life giving substance. They had been lingering since dawn broke, blocking out the sun and any feelings of happiness, hope. Keeping smiles locked away while people rushed from one place to another to make sure they beat the heavenly water. It always seemed to happen that the saddest days were dark and dreary. Some would say that it was the affect of the weather but he knew that it was quite the opposite. Even if the sun had been there to greet him in the morning he still would have felt depressed, empty, an ache in his chest that would not go away. The weather didn't matter. Let it be cloudy and windy, for the trees were dancing and swaying in the gusts preceding the storm front. The weather was just a minor role in the grander scheme of things. And when the clouds finally decided to let go of their burden he would remain where he stood, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, his head bowed. So what if he got soaked and ended up catching a chill? That was a minor worry, something he didn't waste any time thinking about. In fact, where he was, nothing really mattered anymore.

He let his eyes gaze upon the ground but they didn't focus on anything in particular. He was too lost in his mind to see what lay before him. Images kept replaying in his mind like a song stuck on repeat. No matter what he tried there was no way to drive them from his mind. For all he knew they would be there forever, haunting him until he eventually ended up in the grave. And at the rate things were going it wouldn't be a long wait until he was six feet under the tundra. He felt a shudder pass through him, the ache in his chest growing worse. How could it have led to this? It was never supposed to end like this, with such…final consequences. There was nothing he could do about changing the past. He didn't know the secret to life or time travel or how to work magic that would allow him to put the fragile pieces back together. He hated it, feeling useless. Every once in a while he would found himself consumed by that daunting feeling but there was always something that he could do about it. For the most part it was simply solving an open case, finding justice for the person wronged.

This time around he didn't even have that option.

In what turned out to be a handful of minutes his life fell apart. _He_ fell apart. And try as he might there was just no putting the pieces back together, either they refused to be fixed or they just didn't fit together anymore. He felt the tear slide down his cheek leaving a path of despair in its wake. Another one soon followed and before he knew it he was crying silently, his eyes closed, his head bowed. The wind continued to whip around him, tugging mischievously at his coat and playing with his hair. For the most part he was able to ignore the weather as it slowly progressed, the first few droplets of the rain splattering on the pavement, the leaves of the trees, and on him. He knew that before long the raindrops would mingle with his tears and nobody would see that he was crying. Did he care if they saw his weakness? They had to know by now that there was no coming back for him. There was no putting the pieces together.

Not as long as those images flashed vividly in his mind every time he tried to sleep or when he merely blinked. The what if's haunted his every breath. He wanted nothing more than to have a second chance, to do things differently so that they would end on a happier note. But that would never happen. The past was said and done, the future laid before him.

A future that seemed bleak, alone. Cold.

"_Bones?" he called. He searched frantically through the building, his chest aching, every breath harder than the last. No doubt he had a broken rib or two. His pain could wait. He had to find Bones. He had to make sure that she was okay. Stumbling up the steps he yelled her name again. "Bones?" Why won't you fucking answer me, he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. He knew that it would only cause more pain. It took a lot of concentration to work the stairs and keep the darkness away. The pain…he wanted to black out, find refuge from the increasing pain but not until he found her. Then and only then would he close his eyes for a little peace. When he reached the top landing he found a door barely hanging on, one shove would have been enough to send it toppling. Breathing like he'd just run a twenty-mile marathon he slipped through the crack between the broken door and stained wall._

_And there she was._

"_Bones!" he yelled, all thoughts of his pain long gone. He rushed toward her, falling to his knees at her side. There first thing he did was search for a pulse. But he couldn't find one. There was no pulse; however, there was a great deal of blood. The tears pricked his eyes, the pain in his chest going numb as he tried to find out where it was she was bleeding from. He tried to perform CPR but he couldn't do it. He had a hard enough time breathing for himself. Cursing, he slammed his fist against the wooden floor, the anger bubbling up in him. At least he could rest easy knowing that back-up was on the way. He could even hear the sirens. They were roughly five minutes away. _

_Five minutes seemed more like an eternity._

_And something in him snapped._

_Pulling together energy he wasn't even aware he still possessed he trumped down the stairs, nearly falling once or twice, before returning to the main floor. The sirens had drawn closer, less than three minutes out now. There would be help for her, help for him. But there was still something that he had to, something that would allow him to rest. Walking into the first room off the entrance he found a man sprawled on the floor, his back arched, an agonizing look on his face. Booth liked knowing that the pain registered was something he had delivered…but it hadn't been enough. He wasn't himself anymore. He was someone else, a passenger along for the ride. He remembered retrieving the gun that lay on the floor a few feet away and pointing it at the unarmed, injured man on the floor. _

_And as the cavalry came bursting through the door he pulled the trigger._

Cold blood. He killed somebody in cold blood, shattering everything that he had built over the past few years. One minute, a single beat of his heart and the world stood still. He exhaled, the image fading from his mind as he opened his eyes. The rain began to fall in earnest as he looked at the patch of earth before him. It was all that he had left now, a pile of dirt, a stone with written words. He hadn't been there to save her. For once in his life he had been weak and because of it he lost the one thing that meant more to him than life itself.

And the ache, it would never go away, he knew that. He would never be without, the simple 'what-could-have-been' never far from his thoughts.


End file.
